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THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS.  Large  crown 
8vo,  $2.00,  net.  Postage  extra. 

THE  SPIRIT  OF  OLD  WEST  POINT.  Illustrated. 

Octavo,  583.00,  net.  Postage  20  cents. 

ETNA  AND  KIRKERSVI LLE,  LICKING  CO.,  OHIO. 
i2mo,  $1.00 , net.  Postage  8 cents. 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
Boston  and  New  York 


THE 

BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE 
WILDERNESS 


BY 

MORRIS  SCHAFF 

AUTHOR  OP 

“THE  SPIRIT  OP  OLD  WEST  point” 


WITH  MAPS  AND  PLANS 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
(Cfte  Itibetsi&e  pres£  Cambridge 
1910 


COPYRIGHT,  I9IO,  BY  MORRIS  SCHAFP 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


Published  October  iqiq 


_ _ . , 

J.  7 7 3'73^ 

/Al  ajjJriAs  V / A-W-fi — i ^ 2.  '~7  £> 

$).s* 

f 

This  booh  is  dedicated  to  the  memory  of  my  mother 

Charlotte  l^art^dl  J>d)aff 

buried  in  the  little  graveyard  at  Etna  Ohio 
and  whose  gentle  clay  has  long  since 
blended  with  the  common  earth 

Morris  Schaff 


£30369 


LIST  OF  MAPS 


Battle-field  of  the  Wilderness  . . . Frontispiece 

Country  between  the  Rapidan  and  Rappahan- 


nock   52 

Country  South  of  the  Rapidan 68 

General  Map  of  the  Wilderness 122 


Country  South  of  the  Rappahannock  ....  144 


230369 


\ 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE 
WILDERNESS 

I 

From  time  to  time,  one  or  two  friends  have  urged  me 
to  write  of  the  war  between  the  States,  in  which,  as  a 
boy,  I took  a humble  part  just  after  graduating  at 
West  Point;  but  I have  always  answered  that  nature 
had  not  given  me  the  qualifications  of  a historian, 
and  that,  moreover,  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
field  had  been  reaped  and  garnered.  So,  I kept  on  my 
way.  But  not  long  ago,  while  in  a meditative  mood,  a 
brooding  peace  settled  over  my  mind,  and  lo!  across 
a solemn  gorge,  and  far  up  and  away  against  the  past, 
lay  the  misting  field  of  History.  While  as  in  dream- 
land my  inward  eye  was  wandering  bewitched  over  it, 
a voice  hailed  me  from  a green  knoll  at  the  foot  of 
which  burst  a spring  whose  light-hearted  current 
wimpled  away  to  a pond  hard  by.  “ Come  over  here,” 
said  the  voice,  beckoning;  and  seeing  that  I stood 
still,  and  wore  a perplexed  look,  it  added  feelingly, 
“You  have  written  your  boyhood  memories  of  your 
old  home,  and  you  have  written  those  of  your  cadet 
days  at  West  Point;  am  I not  dear  to  you,  too?  I am 
your  boyhood  memories  of  the  War.”  At  once,  from 


2 THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


the  fields  of  Virginia  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  lifted 
as  by  magic  and  began  to  break  camp  to  go  on  its  last 
campaign;  its  old,  battle-scarred  flags  were  fluttering 
proudly,  the  batteries  were  drawing  out,  the  bronze 
guns  that  I had  heard  thunder  on  many  fields  were 
sparkling  gayly,  and  my  horse,  the  same  wide-nos- 
triled,  broad-chested,  silky-haired  roan,  stood  sad- 
dled and  bridled  before  my  tent.  The  trumpets 
sounded ; and,  as  their  notes  died  away,  I picked  up 
the  pen  once  more. 

Upon  graduating  at  West  Point  in  June,  1862,  I 
was  commissioned  a Second  Lieutenant  in  the  Ord- 
nance Corps  and  assigned  to  duty  under  that  loyal, 
deeply-brown-eyed,  modest  Virginia  gentleman  and 
soldier,  Captain  T.  G.  Baylor,  commanding  the 
Arsenal  at  Fort  Monroe.  Fort  Monroe,  or  Old  Point 
Comfort  (which  is  the  loving  and  venerable  historic 
name  of  the  place),  at  that  time  and  throughout  the 
war  was  the  port  and  station  of  greatest  importance 
on  our  southern  seaboard.  Situated  practically  at  the 
mouth  of  the  James,  it  not  only  commanded  the  out- 
let from  the  Confederate  capital  at  Richmond,  but 
also  the  navigation  of  the  Chesapeake  and  the  Po- 
tomac, and  offered  a safe  point  for  the  assembly  of 
fleets  and  armies  preparatory  to  taking  the  offensive. 
When  I reached  there,  it  was  the  base  of  supplies  for 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  then  on  the  last  stage  of  its 
disastrous  Peninsula  campaign,  and  also  for  Burn- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  3 


side’s  army  operating  on  the  coast  of  North  Carolina. 
Moreover,  it  was  the  rendezvous  of  our  Atlantic 
squadrons  and  of  the  foreign  men-of-war,  which, 
drawn  as  eagles  to  the  scene  of  our  conflict,  came  in, 
cast  their  anchors,  and  saluted  the  flag,  though  the 
hearts  of  most  of  them  were  not  with  us.  The  little 
Monitor  was  lying  there,  basking  in  her  victory  over 
the  huge,  ungainly  Merrimac;  and  alongside  of  her, 
their  yards  towering  far  above  her,  lay  the  pride  of 
the  old  navy,  the  Wabash,  the  Colorado,  and  the 
Minnesota.  Vessels,  sail  and  steam,  were  coming  and 
going,  and  the  whole  harbor  was  alive  with  naval  and 
military  activity.  Nor  did  it  cease  when  night  came 
on;  at  all  hours  you  could  hear  the  wharves’  deep 
rumblings,  and  the  suddenly  rapid  clanking  of  hoist- 
ing engines  as  ships  loaded  or  discharged  their  car- 
goes; while  from  off  in  the  harbor  we  could  hear  the 
childlike  bells  on  the  grim  war-vessels  striking  the 
deep  hours  of  the  night. 

It  was  my  first  acquaintance  with  the  sea,  and  I 
think  I was  fortunate  in  the  spot  where  I gained  my 
first  impressions  of  it.  For  never  yet  have  I stood  on 
a beach  where  the  water,  rocking  in  long,  regular  beats, 
as  if  listening  to  music  in  its  dreams,  spread  away 
in  such  mild  union  with  the  clouds  and  sunshine. 

The  Army  of  the  Potomac,  whose  fortunes  I was  to 
share  on  many  a field,  had  just  been  through  the 
fierce  battles  of  Fair  Oaks,  Gaines’s  Mill,  Glendale 
(orFrayser’s  Farm  as  it  is  called  by  the  Confederates), 


4 THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  Malvern  Hill.  In  these  desperate  engagements  it 
had  been  driven  from  the  Chickahominy,  and  was 
then  huddled  around  Harrison’s  Landing  on  the 
north  bank  of  the  James,  about  twenty-five  miles 
below  Richmond.  The  army  had  suffered  terribly  in 
this  campaign,  known  as  that  of  the  Peninsula;  but 
the  government,  though  cast  down  and  sorely  disap- 
pointed at  the  outcome,  immediately  responded  with 
vigor  to  its  needs,  and  the  river  and  Hampton  Roads 
were  lined  day  and  night  with  transports  taking  sup- 
plies of  all  kinds  to  it,  and  bringing  back  the  sick  and 
wounded,  of  whom  there  were  very,  very  many.  Its 
commander  was  McClellan,  perhaps  the  war’s  great- 
est marvel  as  an  example  of  personal  magnetism,  and 
one  of  Fortune’s  dearest  children;  yet  one  who,  when 
Victory  again  and  again  poised,  ready  to  light  on  his 
banner,  failed  to  give  the  decisive  blow.  The  authori- 
ties at  Washington,  never  quite  satisfied  with  Mc- 
Clellan and  never  confident  that  he  would  win,  har- 
bored, I am  satisfied,  a political  dread  of  him  should 
success  attend  him;  and  now,  finding  him  cooped  up 
at  Harrison’s  Landing,  organized  an  army  to  operate 
between  Washington  and  Richmond,  and  had 
assigned  to  its  command  that  really  able  and  much 
abused  soldier,  John  Pope,  thereby  hoping  to  get  rid 
of  McClellan. 

When  Pope’s  army  on  the  upper  Rappahannock 
was  threatened  with  overthrow,  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac was  recalled  to  Washington.  It  marched  down 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  5 


the  Peninsula  to  Old  Point  Comfort,  where  transports 
had  been  gathered  to  meet  it.  During  that  time 
McClellan  and  his  staff  were  at  our  officers’  mess  for 
several  days,  and  on  one  occasion  I lunched  almost 
alone  with  him.  So  sweet  and  winsome  was  he,  that 
I ever  after  was  one  of  his  sympathetic  and  ardent 
admirers.  Later  on  I served  with  Hooker,  Burnside, 
Meade,  and  Grant,  each  of  whom  in  turn  followed 
him  at  the  head  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac;  but 
were  that  old  army  to  rise  from  its  tomb,  not  one  of 
them  would  call  out  such  cheers  as  those  which  would 
break  when  “Little  Mac,”  as  it  loved  to  call  him, 
should  appear.  He  was  a short,  compact,  square- 
shouldered, round-bodied  man,  with  a low  forehead 
and  heavily  wrinkled  brow.  . j 

It  took  three  or  four  days  to  embark  the  troops, 
and  meanwhile  I visited  the  camps  of  many  of  my 
West  Point  friends,  and  for  the  first  time  heard  the 
trumpets  of  the  dear  old  army.  At  last  they  were  all 
aboard,  and  I watched  them  heading  off  up  the  Ches- 
apeake and  longed  to  go  with  them,  with  my  friends 
of  cadet  days,  Custer,  Cushing,  Woodruff,  Bowen, 
Kirby,  Dimick,  and  others,  — all  of  whose  cheery, 
young  faces  seemed  to  diffuse  the  very  air  of  glory, 
while  the  colors  of  Regulars  and  Volunteers  seemed 
to  beckon  me  to  follow  as  they  were  borne  away. 

The  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  come  to  be  recog- 
nized at  home  and  abroad  as  the  country’s  chief  safe- 
guard, the  one  firm  barrier  to  be  relied  upon  to  hold 


6 THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Washington.  For,  the  National  Capital  once  in  the 
hands  of  the  Confederates,  the  cause  of  the  Union 
would  be  irretrievably  lost.  None  saw  this  fact 
clearer  than  the  cold-eyed  commercial  power  of  the 
North,  yet  whose  heart  throbbed  with  the  common 
love  of  the  country’s  ideals.  So,  all  over  the  North, 
and  especially  in  the  region  east  of  the  Alleghanies 
where  the  most  of  its  rank  and  file  were  reared,  the 
people  were  proud  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac;  and 
at  sunrise  and  sunset,  and  around  every  fireside, 
offered  their  prayers  for  it.  Fearful  indeed  had  been, 
and  were  to  be,  its  trials.  It  had  lost  much  blood,  but 
the  people  knew  that  it  was  ready  to  lose  still  more 
before  it  would  yield  to  a truce  or  ignominious  peace. 

From  the  parapets  of  Fortress  Monroe  I saw  that 
army  move  away.  It  soon  met  its  old  antagonist,  the 
Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  the  flower  of  the  South- 
ern armies,  on  the  field  of  Manassas,  and  then,  just  as 
autumn’s  golden  glow  began  to  haze  the  fields,  at 
Antietam;  and  at  last  under  Burnside  in  the  short, 
cold  days  of  December,  it  made  its  frightful  assault 
on  Lee’s  entrenchments  along  Marye’s  Heights,  back 
of  Fredericksburg.  It  never  showed  greater  valor, 
and  its  losses  were  sickening.  The  army  wintered  on 
the  Rappahannock,  opposite  Fredericksburg,  and 
in  sight  of  the  lines  it  had  vainly  tried  to  carry. 

Now  and  then  I heard  from  my  friends  with  the 
army,  and  day  after  day  continued  my  duties  in  the 
shops,  or  testing  big  guns  on  the  beach,  wondering  if 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDEKNESS  7 


the  war  would  be  over  before  I should  see  any  active 
service  in  the  field.  Thus  winter  was  passed  and  spring 
came  — and  nowhere  does  her  face  wear  such  a smile 
as  at  Old  Point.  The  last  of  the  migrating  birds  had 
gone  over  us,  the  days  were  lengthening,  and  I knew 
that  the  army  would  soon  be  moving  again,  and 
longed  more  and  more  to  be  with  it.  But  my  wonder 
and  longing  were  soon  to  end. 

On  April  16,  Captain  Baylor  called  me  into  the 
office,  and  with  a smile  handed  me  the  following : — 

Wab  Department, 
Adjutant-General’s  Office, 
Washington,  April  15,  1883. 

Special  Orders  No.  173 

24.  First  Lieut.  Morris  Schaff,  Ordnance  Depart- 
ment, is  hereby  assigned  to  duty  with  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  and  will  report  in  person  without  delay  to 
Major-General  Hooker,  Commanding. 

By  Order  of  the  Secretary  of  War, 

E.  D.  Townsend, 
Assistant  Adjutant-General. 

Great  was  my  delight ! I was  in  my  twenty-second 
year,  and  what  a mere,  undeveloped  boy!  I bade 
good-by  to  Captain  and  Mrs.  Baylor,  and  I never 
think  of  them  without  the  tenderest  emotion.  He  and 
a little  group  of  friends,  — in  those  days,  as  now,  I 
made  friends  slowly,  — all  of  whom  were  my  seniors, 
went  with  me  to  the  boat,  and  soon  I was  on  my  way. 


8 THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Hooker’s  headquarters  were  at  the  Phillips  house 
on  one  of  the  hills  known  as  the  hills  of  Stafford,  which 
shoulder  up  in  array  along  the  north  bank  of  the  Rap- 
pahannock. On  reporting  to  him  I was  assigned  as 
assistant  to  his  chief  of  Ordnance,  the  big-hearted 
Captain  D.  W.  Flagler  (with  whom  I had  been  at 
West  Point  for  three  years),  thereby  becoming  a part 
of  the  headquarters-staff  of  the  army.  I never  saw 
Hooker’s  equal  in  soldierly  appearance ; moreover, 
there  was  a certain  air  of  promise  about  him,  — at 
least  so  he  impressed  me,  — as  he  came  riding  up 
to  headquarters  just  after  I got  there.  His  plans 
were  made,  and  he  was  almost  ready  to  move. 

A few  days  after  I had  reported,  he  sent  for- 
Flagler,  and  gave  him  orders  to  have  a supply  of 
ammunition  at  the  White  House  on  the  Pamunkey, 
which,  as  every  one  knows,  is  not  far  from  Richmond, 
remarking  that  he  had  Lee’s  army  in  his  grasp,  and 
could  crush  it  like  that,  — closing  his  hand  firmly. 
When  Flagler  came  back  to  the  tent,  and  told  me 
what  the  general  had  said,  the  big  fellow  smiled;  and, 
in  the  light  of  what  happened,  well  he  might:  for 
within  a few  weeks,  at  Chancellorsville  (lying  just 
within  the  eastern  border  of  the  Wilderness),  Hooker 
met  a crushing  defeat,  and  his  laurels,  like  those  of 
his  predecessors,  McClellan,  Burnside,  and  Pope, 
were  permanently  blasted. 

The  outlook  from  our  headquarters,  a truly  vener- 
able Virginia  manor-house,  was  commanding  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  9 


interesting.  Before  it,  on  the  other  side  of  the  river, 
and  dreaming  of  its  historic  past,  lay  the  old  colonial 
town  of  Fredericksburg,  in  whose  graveyard  Wash- 
ington’s mother  is  buried.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  was 
the  Rappahannock,  bearing  on  peacefully  between 
its  willow-fringed  banks,  the  Confederate  pickets  on 
one,  and  ours  on  the  other  in  open  view.  Starting  at 
the  river  side  is  a plain  running  off  level  as  a floor, 
nearly  a mile,  to  a line  of  low  encircling  hills  known  as 
Marye’s  Heights.  Fences,  stone  walls,  and  sunken 
roads  mark  the  slopes  of  these  hills,  and  on  Decem- 
ber 13,  1863,  the  ground  in  front  of  them  was  blue, 
but  not  with  autumn’s  last  blooming  flower,  the 
gentian,  but  with  our  dead.  Back  of  the  hills  were 
fringes  of  timber,  and  then  the  rim  of  the  bending  sky. 
There  lay  Lee’s  intrepid  army,  under  the  command  of 
Longstreet,  Hill,  and  Stonewall  Jackson.  The  view 
had  a pensive  charm  for  me,  and  I could  look  at  it 
hour  after  hour. 

At  last  all  was  ready,  and  Hooker,  masked  by  the 
woods,  moved  up  the  river,  crossed,  and  entered  the 
Wilderness  with  boldness.  He  no  sooner  breathed  its 
air  than  he  lost  all  vigor,  became  dazed,  and  at  Chan- 
cellorsville  met  his  fate.  In  this  savage  encounter 
three  of  my  young  friends  were  either  killed  or  mor- 
tally wounded:  Marsh,  Kirby,  and  Dimick. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Stonewall  Jackson, 
conceded  by  friend  and  foe  to  be  the  ablest  and  most 
formidable  corps  commander  of  modern  times,  lost 


10  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


his  life  by  a volley  from  his  own  men  at  this  battle  of 
Chancellorsville,  when  on  the  very  verge  of  deliver- 
ing what  might  have  proved  a mortal  blow  to  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  As  the  circumstances  of  this 
event,  so  momentous  to  the  Confederacy,  repeated 
themselves  with  startling  fidelity  just  a year  later  on 
the  same  road,  and  not  two  miles  away,  in  the  battle 
of  the  Wilderness,  stopping  again,  but  this  time  for 
good  and  all,  Lee’s  hour-hand  of  victory,  there  is 
established  a mysteriously  intimate  and  dramatic 
relation  between  the  two  battles,  which  will  be 
revealed  in  its  entire  significance,  I hope,  as  the 
narrative  makes  its  way.  On  the  day  Stonewall  was 
buried  the  bells  of  Fredericksburg  tolled  sadly,  and 
across  the  river  came  to  us  the  plaintive  strains  of 
their  bands  playing  dirges. 

After  Chancellorsville  the  defeated  army  staggered 
back  to  its  old  encampments,  and  the  writer  returned 
to  the  ordnance  depot  at  Aquia  Creek.  There  I saw 
Abraham  Lincoln  for  the  first  and  only  time.  He  was 
seated  in  an  ordinary,  empty  freight-car,  on  a stout 
plank  supported  at  each  end  by  a cracker-box.  Hal- 
leck,  in  undress  uniform,  was  on  his  left,  a big  man 
with  baggy  cheeks  and  pop  eyes.  Mr.  Lincoln  was 
gazing  off  over  the  heads  of  the  staring  groups  of 
soldiers  and  laborers  white  and  black,  to  the  silent, 
timbered  Virginia  shore  of  the  Potomac.  He  seemed 
utterly  unconscious  of  all  who  had  gathered  about 
him.  He  was  on  his  way  to  Hooker’s  headquarters, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  11 


and  looked,  and  doubtless  felt,  sad  enough.  The 
world  knows  his  features  well.  Plainer  or  more  un- 
predictive  externals  nature  never  spread  over  the 
genius  to  govern ; but  then  she  put  in  his  breast  as 
kind  and  lyric  a heart  as  ever  beat. 

Elated  by  his  victory  and  urged  on  by  the  state  of 
the  Confederacy’s  resources  and  his  natural  inclina- 
tion for  the  offensive,  Lee,  within  a month,  began  the 
movements  toward  the  upper  Potomac  which  culmi- 
nated in  the  battle  at  Gettysburg,  where  for  a time 
I remained,  collecting  the  arms  that  were  left  on  the 
field.  I little  dreamed  then,  as  I rode  and  walked  over 
that  famous  field,  what  an  epoch  it  marked  in  the 
history  of  the  war.  Through  the  vast  amount  that 
has  been  written  about  the  battle,  and  the  devoted 
spirit  in  which  the  field  has  been  preserved,  and  the 
services  of  those  who  fell  commemorated,  an  im- 
pression prevails  that  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy 
was  sealed  that  day,  — an  impression  which  a com- 
prehensive view  of  the  situation  will,  I believe,  chal- 
lenge if  not  remove.  Let  me  state  the  grounds  of  my 
disbelief,  and,  if  they  do  not  convince,  they  may  at 
least  serve  as  a background  for  the  narrative,  aiding 
us  to  weigh  the  issues  hanging  on  the  campaign  of 
1864. 

When  Grant  was  brought  on  from  the  West,  and 
took  virtual  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac, 
in  the  spring  after  Gettysburg,  the  war  had  been 
raging  for  three  years.  First  and  last,  the  North  had 


12  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


put  into  the  field  rising  two  million  men;  and, 
although  important  victories,  such  as  Vicksburg, 
Gettysburg,  and  Missionary  Ridge,  had  been  won, 
and  obviously  the  North  had  had  the  best  of  it,  yet 
there  is  no  gainsaying  that  her  condition  was  peril- 
ous and  her  disappointments  great.  She  had  hoped 
and  had  sincerely  believed  that  long  ere  that  time 
she  would  have  put  down  the  Rebellion,  and  keenly 
she  felt  the  sneers  of  the  old  world  as  she  struggled 
for  existence.  But,  notwithstanding  her  supreme 
efforts,  the  South  was  in  some  respects  closer  knit 
than  ever,  and  far  from  being  conquered. 

And  now,  at  the  end  of  three  years  of  desperate  war, 
she  was  staggering  under  a mighty  debt,  the  Confed- 
erate cruisers  had  driven  her  commerce  from  the  sea, 
volunteering,  which  had  begun  spontaneously  and 
with  burning  enthusiasm,  had  stopped,  and  the  ad- 
ministration had  been  forced  to  resort  to  the  draft. 
Successive  defeats  had  bred  factions  within  and  with- 
out the  cabinet,  — factions  made  up  of  governors, 
editors,  and  senators,  all  secretly  denouncing  Mr. 
Lincoln  and  his  administration,  and  actively  plot- 
ting to  defeat  him  at  the  forthcoming  convention. 

To  make  matters  worse,  the  government,  fretted 
by  repeated  reverses,  had  become  more  and  more 
irritable,  and,  as  was  natural  with  the  continuance 
of  the  war,  more  and  more  arbitrary.  Those  in  offi- 
cial life  who  criticised  its  policies  were  turned  upon 
fiercely;  the  press,  never  an  easy  friend  or  foe  to  deal 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  13 


with  in  time  of  peril,  was  threatened  with  muzzling, 
and  some  papers  were  actually  suppressed,  and  their 
proprietors  imprisoned;  the  provost-marshals,  of 
necessity  invested  with  wide  but  delicate  military 
authority,  often  became  despotic  in  their  arrests, 
and  almost  habitually  haughty  in  parading  of  their 
office,  — their  haughtiness  aggravated  by  ignorance, 
vanity,  and  bad  manners.  Under  it  all,  discontent 
had  grown  and  spread,  until,  by  the  time  the  cam- 
paign of  1864  was  ready  to  open,  in  the  states  border- 
ing on  the  Ohio  there  was  a secret  organization  said 
to  have  had  over  four  hundred  thousand  members, 
a coagulation  of  all  phases  of  political  hatred  and 
tainted  loyalty,  only  waiting  for  a substantial  defeat 
of  the  Union  army  to  break  out  into  an  open  demand 
for  an  armistice,  which,  of  course,  meant  the  recog- 
nition of  the  South. 

As  a proof  of  the  depth  and  reality  of  this  over- 
hanging danger,  see  the  action  of  some  of  the  courts, 
and  the  attempt  of  the  legislature  of  Indiana  to 
transfer  the  control  of  the  state’s  arsenal,  with  its 
eighteen  thousand  arms,  — directly,  to  be  sure,  to 
three  trustees,  but  in  the  end  to  that  ostensibly 
peace-seeking  yet  practically  traitorous  organization. 
Meantime  throughout  the  North  patriotism  was 
smothering  under  the  bitterness  of  faction,  and  the 
blighting  evil  of  indifference  to  the  country’s  glory, 
an  indifference  that  nurses  always  at  the  breast  of 
commercial  prosperity.  At  the  same  time  corruption 


14  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


in  official  life,  and  dissipation  in  various  forms,  ran 
riot  and  made  their  way,  undermining  civic  morals 
and  manly  virtues.  Never  were  gambling-houses  so 
common,  low  theatres  so  crowded,  streets  gayer,  or 
the  rotundas  of  hotels  and  the  richly  furnished  rooms 
of  fashionable  clubs  more  frequented  by  young,  able- 
bodied,  well-dressed  “high  rollers ” and  champagne- 
drinkers.  Yet,  let  the  sound  of  a drum  be  heard 
in  the  street  at  the  head  of  some  returning  body  of 
veterans,  — whom  not  one  of  them  had  had  the  cour- 
age or  manliness  to  join  in  defense  of  the  country, 
— and  lo!  up  would  go  the  windows  of  the  clubs, 
and  they  and  the  balconies  of  every  hotel  would  be 
filled  with  cheering  men. 

This  being  the  state  of  affairs,  let  us  suppose  that 
Lee,  at  the  outset  of  the  campaign  of  1864,  had  de- 
feated the  Army  of  the  Potomac  decisively,  and  had 
driven  Grant  back  across  the  Rappahannock,  as  he 
had  driven  Burnside,  Pope,  and  Hooker,  — how  loud 
and  almost  irresistible  would  have  been  the  cry  for 
an  armistice,  supported  (as  it  would  have  been)  by 
Wall  Street  and  all  Europe!  Where,  then,  would  have 
been  the  victory  of  Gettysburg?  In  view  of  the  dis- 
parity of  numbers  and  the  depleted  resources  of  the 
Confederacy,  was  it  possible  for  Lee  to  have  given 
such  a blow?  Yes,  and  had  not  Fate  registered  her 
decree  that  at  the  critical  moment  Longstreet  was 
to  fall  in  the  Wilderness  as  Jackson  had  fallen  at 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  15 


Chancellorsville,  he  would  have  come  near  doing  so. 
And  so,  great  as  was  the  victory  at  Gettysburg,  I 
am  not  at  all  convinced  that  it  was  decisive,  remem- 
bering, as  I do,  how  the  balance  trembled  more  than 
once  in  the  campaign  from  the  Rapidan. 

But,  however  this  may  be,  it  must  not  be  forgotten 
that,  counterbalancing  the  incongruous  gayety  and 
dissipation  that  prevailed  in  our  large  cities,  the 
dying  down  of  early  ardor,  and  the  disloyal  hives 
that  were  ready  to  swarm,  there  were  thousands  of 
pure,  high-minded,  resolute  men  and  women  who  re- 
mained faithful  to  their  ideals  and  kept  the  national 
spirit  alive;  who,  in  sunshine  and  shadow,  for  the 
glory  of  the  country  and  their  generation,  upheld 
Mr.  Lincoln’s  hands  and  stood  by  him  to  the  last 
most  loyally.  Neither  defeat,  pleas  for  peace,  nor 
desire  for  ease  prevailed  against  their  heaven-inspired 
and  steel-hardened  determination  to  fight  the  Con- 
federacy to  an  end;  and  on  them  and  the  army  in  the 
field,  I think,  the  honors  of  carrying  the  country 
through  its  perils  should  fall. 

It  is  true,  and  for  the  sake  of  history  it  should  be 
recorded,  that  while  a great  majority  of  those  stead- 
fast, loyal  people  of  the  North  had  felt  that  slavery 
was  wrong  and  altogether  out  of  harmony  with  civil- 
ization and  the  spirit  of  a free  government,  yet  in  the 
beginning  of  the  war  they  had  no  desire  or  intent  to 
interfere  with  it  in  the  states;  so  dear  were  the  mem- 
ories of  the  Revolution,  and  so  deep  their  reverence 


16  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


for  Washington  and  his  fellow  slave-holding  com- 
patriots who  had  joined  Puritan  New  England  in 
establishing  the  independence  of  the  colonies.  More- 
over, and  notwithstanding  those  galling  irritations 
which  always  attend  the  concession  of  social  and 
political  dominance,  the  North  had  not  inherited 
any  active  hates  or  vindictiveness,  although  it  had 
felt  deeply  of  late  the  repeated  scorn  and  increasing 
arrogance  of  the  political  leaders  of  the  South,  mani- 
fested in  the  discussion  of  slavery  that  had  been 
going  on  for  twenty  or  thirty  years.  It  is  needless  to 
say  that  the  language  in  Congress  grew  more  and 
more  heated,  or  that  it  was  marked  more  and  more 
by  asperity  of  criticism  and  ugliness  of  temper  and 
insolence  of  bearing.  Neither  side  was  fair  in  judging 
the  convictions  or  the  situation  of  the  other.  The 
Disunionist  was  blind  to  the  inevitable  wreck  of  all 
that  was  dear  in  social  and  political  life  if  he  destroyed 
the  Union;  the  Abolitionist  was  blind,  utterly  blind, 
to  the  immediate  and  lasting  evils  of  having  his  way 
with  slavery. 

So  it  went  on,  till  at  last,  burning  with  a raging 
fever  over  the  John  Brown  raid,  and  lashed  by  a 
savage  press,  the  South  burst  into  delirium  upon  the 
election  of  Lincoln,  and  madly  and  vauntingly  fired 
on  the  flag,  that  rippled  out  in  joyful  peace  with 
every  breeze  that  blew  over  Sumter.  The  arrogant 
leaders  of  the  South  meant  that  shot  for  a stinging 
challenge,  and  it  was  so  understood.  Every  beech 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  17 


and  maple  and  strong-limbed  oak  in  the  North,  every 
one  of  her  hills  and  streams,  every  one  of  the  old  fields 
and  the  liberty-enjoying  winds  that  swept  them,  said, 
“Accept  the  challenge!  Go,  Northerners, go  and  assert 
your  manhood!”  But,  Southerners!  let  me  tell  you 
that  as  they  passed  down  the  walks  of  the  old  home 
dooryards  and  out  of  the  gates,  followed  by  eyes  that 
were  dimmed  with  tears,  the  evils  or  the  abolition 
of  slavery  did  not  enter  the  mind  of  one  in  a thou- 
sand. Their  country  and  their  honor  were  at  stake, 
not  the  destruction  of  slavery.  So  it  was  generally, 
far  and  wide  among  the  great  body  of  the  people. 

But  with  the  progress  of  the  war,  and  under  the 
severe  defeats  of  one  army  after  another,  as  the  South, 
out  of  the  depths  of  her  resolution,  struck  again  and 
again,  the  belief  took  root  that  God  would  not  bless 
their  arms  while  slavery  had  a recognized  legal  exist- 
ence; and  inasmuch  as  it  became  obvious  that  its 
death  would  be  at  the  same  hour  as  that  of  the  Con- 
federacy, the  influence  of  long-accepted  legal  defense 
and  the  golden  ties  of  friendship  melted  before  the 
warmth  of  moral  and  patriotic  emotion.  As  a result, 
Lincoln,  sensitive  in  a marvelous  degree  to  what  was 
going  on  deep  in  the  hearts  of  the  common  people, 
carved  emancipation  across  the  sky  of  those  solemn 
days,  and  the  army  that  had  left  home  without  pro- 
nounced feeling  against  slavery  said,  “Amen!”  And, 
what  is  more,  “Amen!”  said  all  the  civilized  world. 

There  was  also,  coincident  with  this  change,  which 


18  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


in  a sense  was  political,  another  in  the  army,  which 
was  spiritual.  Gradually,  for  in  the  divine  ordering 
of  progress  consecrating  spirits  reveal  themselves 
slowly,  the  consciousness  broke  at  last  on  the  minds 
of  officers  and  men  that  the  dearest  hopes  of  man- 
kind were  appealing  to  them  individually  in  the  name 
of  duty  and  honor  and  all  that  was  sacred,  not  to 
despair  or  to  yield,  come  weal,  come  woe,  till  the 
country’s  supremacy  was  unchallenged,  and  the  way 
cleared  for  her  future.  Of  nothing  am  I surer  than 
of  this  visitation  and  the  consequent  serious,  deep, 
and  exalted  mood;  and  I am  fain  to  believe  that  every 
drop  of  blood  that  strained  through  a heart  that  lis- 
tened to  these  spiritual  heralds  and  welcomed  the 
vow,  was  permanently  heightened  in  its  color.  When 
we  realize  how  meagre  had  been  the  advantages 
among  the  rank  and  file,  and  how  generally  humble 
and  obscure  their  homes,  the  marvel  grows,  and  our 
hands  reach  instinctively  for  garlands  for  every  one 
of  them  who  gave  up  his  life  or  who  bore  his  part 
manfully. 

Now,  a word  as  to  the  South.  If  the  disappoint- 
ments of  the  North  over  the  outcome  of  three  years 
of  war  had  been  deep,  those  of  the  South  had  been 
deeper.  So  sure  was  she  of  the  poltroonery  of  the 
North,  and  the  indomitable  courage  of  her  own  sons, 
that  she  had  expected  at  the  beginning  to  achieve 
her  independence  long,  long  ere  the  date  of  the  cam- 
paign of  May  1,  1864.  In  fact,  thousands  and  thou- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  19 


sands  of  her  soldiers  believed,  as  they  set  off  in  the 
spring  of  ’61  for  the  Potomac  and  the  Ohio,  that  the 
southern  banks  of  these  beautiful  rivers  were  to  be 
the  northern  boundaries  of  their  proud  and  victori- 
ous Confederacy;  and  this  before  the  cotton,  then 
ready  to  branch,  should  all  be  picked.  But  there  had 
been  Gaines’s  Mill,  Malvern  Hill,  Antietam,  and 
Gettysburg  in  the  east;  Shiloh,  Missionary  Ridge, 
Stone’s  River,  and  Vicksburg,  in  the  west.  No,  they 
did  not  get  back  in  time  to  see  the  cotton  picked; 
many  of  them  were  never  to  see  it  bloom  again.  Year 
after  year  they  had  followed  the  drum,  and  were  still 
far  from  home  fighting  for  their  wan,  unacknowledged 
Confederacy,  or  sleeping  in  their  graves. 

There  is  pathos  in  the  contrast,  as  we  think  of  them 
walking  their  sentry-posts  to  and  fro,  half-fed  and 
half-clothed,  now  under  drenching  rains,  now  shiver- 
ing under  northern  winds,  their  hearts  beating  low, 
— so  completely  had  the  scene  shifted  and  their 
hopes  vanished.  And  what  surprises  they  had  had, 
too!  Where  was  the  evidence  of  that  poltroonery 
in  their  enemies  that  they  were  so  sure  of?  Lo,  as 
when  the  heavens  at  night  are  troubled,  and  light- 
ning from  some  black  cloud  flashes  as  from  a sud- 
denly opened  furnace  door,  revealing  to  us  across  a 
field  a wood  standing  resolute  in  burnished  glory, 
so  in  the  light  of  their  own  volleys  again  and  again 
they  had  seen  the  North.  More  than  once,  also,  they 
had  witnessed  Northern  courage,  as  when  the  volun- 


20  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


teers  came  on  at  Fort  Donelson  and  Fredericksburg, 
leaving  the  ground  they  passed  over  blue  with  dead. 
No,  they  had  discovered  that  there  was  steel  and 
iron  in  the  Northern  blood  when  it  came  to  battling 
for  their  self-respect  and  a cause  which  they  believed 
to  be  holy. 

Again,  when  the  Confederacy  was  launched  at 
Montgomery,  the  South  had  the  keen  pleasure  of 
seeing  it  hailed  by  several  of  the  governments  of 
Europe  as  a coming  sister  in  the  family  of  nations. 
While  in  buoyant  self-confidence  she  was  sure  that 
all  of  them  would  recognize  her  sooner  or  later,  yet 
it  was  her  chief  expectation  and  desire  that  England, 
with  whose  landed  aristocracy  the  slave-holders  had 
made  themselves  believe  there  was  a natural  sym- 
pathy, would  be  the  first  to  reach  out  a welcoming 
hand.  But  days,  months,  and  years  had  passed,  and 
no  hand  had  been  extended.  On  the  contrary,  either 
through  fear  or  interest,  all,  including  England,  had 
yielded  to  the  demands  of  her  despised  adversary 
and  drawn  the  mantle  of  neutrality  closely  around 
them.  Before  the  first  day  of  May,  1864,  she  had 
seen  through  the  sarcasm  and  mockery  of  their 
greeting  smiles.  The  situation  was  humiliating  to 
the  last  degree.  Moreover,  the  North  had  driven 
the  Southern  armies  back  from  the  Potomac  and  the 
Ohio,  it  had  wrested  from  them  the  control  of  the 
Mississippi  Valley,  and  had  overrun  and  desolated 
a great  share  of  their  home-country. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  21 


In  addition,  the  Confederacy’s  financial  system, 
to  their  distress  and  mortification,  had  broken  down 
completely,  and  about  all  their  ports  had  been  sealed 
up,  thus  cutting  them  off  from  both  military  and 
hospital  supplies,  and  — at  the  time  with  which  this 
narrative  is  dealing  — humanity’s  pleading  cry  from 
their  hospitals  was  heard  day  and  night.  They  had 
the  means  neither  to  succor  their  own  sick  and 
wounded,  nor  to  discharge  their  duties  to  the  pris- 
oners they  held.  The  luxuries,  too,  once  so  abundant 
and  so  hospitably  shared,  were  all  gone;  rich  and 
poor  were  living  from  day  to  day  on  the  plainest 
food.  As  in  the  case  of  the  North,  the  high  wave  of 
volunteering  for  service  in  the  field  had  passed,  and 
the  conscripting  officer  had  become  a visitor  at  every 
door,  no  matter  how  secluded  in  the  woods  or  remote 
in  the  mountains  the  home  might  be.  At  his  first 
visit  he  called  for  the  boys  of  eighteen  and  the  men 
up  to  forty-five.  Later  he  came  again,  and  demanded 
this  time  the  boy  of  seventeen  and  the  man  of  fifty. 
Northern  men,  who  after  engagements  went  over  the 
fields  where  the  Southern  dead  lay,  will  recall  the 
young  faces  and  the  venerable  gray  hairs  among  the 
fallen.  I saw  a boy  with  a sweet  face,  who  could  not 
have  been  over  sixteen  or  seventeen  years  old,  lying 
on  his  back  in  a clover-field  on  the  Beverly  farm, 
within  sight  of  Spotsylvania.  He  had  just  been 
killed.  We  had  had  tw*o  or  three  days  of  heavy  rains, 
but  that  morning  it  had  cleared  off  smilingly.  Only 


22  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


a few  drifting  white  clouds  were  left,  and  I am  sure 
that  they  and  the  door  of  Heaven  opened  tenderly 
for  his  spirit  as  it  mounted  from  the  blooming  clover. 
Well,  so  it  was,  — the  boys  and  all  the  old  men  had 
been  gleaned. 

While  these  bitter  experiences  and  disappoint- 
ments were  following  one  another  year  after  year 
with  their  deepening  gloom,  a profound  seriousness, 
which  is  reflected,  I think,  in  the  prayers,  sermons, 
and  diaries  of  the  time,  spread  over  the  entire  South. 
As  a result,  the  war’s  passions  and  the  grounds  of 
its  justification  underwent  a progressive  metamor- 
phosis in  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  Southern  people, 
and  especially  of  its  armies,  not  unlike  that  which 
was  going  on  simultaneously  in  the  North.  I some- 
times think  that  a history  of  the  Rebellion  cannot 
be  full,  just,  or  truly  enlightening,  that  does  not  try 
to  give  us  as  close  and  real  a view  as  it  can  of  these 
spiritual  changes.  In  the  case  of  the  South,  it  ac- 
counts, or  so  it  seems  to  me,  for  two  very  impressive 
things,  namely,  the  gallantry  with  which  Lee’s  army 
battled  on,  when  the  chance  of  success  was  almost 
hopeless;  and  the  dearness  of  the  memory  of  the 
Confederacy  to  all  of  them,  notwithstanding  that 
they  see  now,  as  we  all  see,  that  it  was  best  that  it 
should  fail. 

.This  change  in  the  temper  of  the  South  in  regard 
to  the  war  and  its  issues  embodied  itself  finally,  as 
in  the  North,  in  a spirit  of  consecration.  And  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  23 


what?  Her  ports  closed,  her  resources  nearly  ex- 
hausted, her  dwindling  armies  suffering  for  food  and 
clothing,  a wide  zone  of  desolation  along  her  northern 
border,  and  unfriended  by  one  of  all  the  nations  of 
the  world,  the  South  in  her  chagrin,  humiliation,  and 
despair  turned  for  comfort  to  mind  and  heart,  as  we 
all  do  at  last,  invoking  the  guidance  and  help  of  her 
naturally  religious  better  nature.  In  that  solemn 
hour,  banishing  from  her  presence  the  hitherto 
baneful  companions  Arrogance  and  Disdain,  who 
had  caused  her  to  drink  of  the  full  stream  of  trouble, 
she  summoned  back  that  master  workman,  Judg- 
ment, to  whom  in  her  delirium  she  had  not  listened; 
and  behold,  there  came  with  him  an  immortal  youth 
whose  name  is  The  Future.  The  former,  facing  the 
cold  realities,  pronounced  slavery  dead,  whether  the 
Confederacy  lived  days  or  years;  and  Lincoln’s 
emancipation  proclamation,  not  the  decree  of  one 
man,  but  the  fiat  of  the  civilized  world. 

While  Judgment’s  verdict  grew  weightier  and  more 
certain  as  clearer  and  clearer  became  the  writing  on 
the  wall,  the  immortal  youth  slowly  drew  back  one 
of  his  curtains,  revealing  slavery  becoming  more  and 
more  abhorrent  as  mankind  rose  in  intelligence  and 
gentleness.  Honor  and  Manliness,  those  two  high- 
minded  brothers  in  the  Southerner’s  character, 
shrank  back  at  the  sight,  and  declared  their  unwill- 
ingness to  leave  as  the  ultimate  verdict  of  history 
that  the  Southland,  the  home  of  Washington  and 


24  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Jefferson,  had  plunged  the  country  into  war  for  the 
preservation  of  an  institution  so  repellent.  Then  up 
spoke  that  mighty,  but  not  over-scrupulous  advocate 
called  Reason;  yet  on  this  occasion  he  spoke  with 
sincerity  unfeigned,  saying : — 

“If  there  are  wrongs,  there  are  also  rights.  Man- 
kind knows  that  we  of  to-day  are  not  responsible  for 
slavery.  It  descended  to  us  from  our  fathers,  and 
through  generations  it  has  knit  itself  into  our  homes, 
our  social  and  our  political  life.  We  cannot  separate 
ourselves  from  it  at  once,  if  we  would,  without  chaos 
and  possibly  universal  massacre.  But  if  our  slaves 
are  entitled  to  freedom,  then  we  are  entitled  to 
govern  ourselves;  for  that  is  the  first  of  the  heaven- 
born  rights  in  the  hands  of  freemen.  In  other  words, 
we  are  asking  only  for  our  natural  rights  incorporated 
in  the  rights  of  our  states,  which  underlie  the  founda- 
tions of  the  Union;”  — and  in  majesty  before  the 
Southern  mind  the  original  sovereignty  of  the  old 
colonies,  with  Washington  and  Adams  at  the  head, 
passed  in  review.  “ No,  whatever  may  have  been  our 
delirium  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  we  are  not  fight- 
ing for  the  defense  of  property  in  human  beings,  but 
for  the  ineradicable  and  unconquerable  instinct  of 
self-government  as  states;  and  for  our  homes.” 

And  lo!  at  this  point  of  the  argument,  the  light  of 
their  burning  homes  flashed  across  the  scene;  for 
hardly  a day  or  night  passed  that  somewhere  the 
Southern  sky  was  not  lit  by  them.  Whereupon, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  25 


leader  and  officer  and  man  in  the  ranks  rose  as  one, 
and  facing  the  immortal  Youth,  in  whose  eyes  lay 
the  question  of  justification,  exclaimed  resolutely: 
“On  the  ground  of  the  right  of  self-government  we 
will  stand;  and  committing  our  souls  to  God  and  our 
memories  to  those  who  follow  us,  let  history  record 
what  it  may  as  to  our  justification  in  the  years  and 
days  to  come.”  And  thus  having  answered  the  ques- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  The  Future,  reverently  and  calmly, 
they  fell  on  their  knees  and  asked  God  to  bless  them. 
There,  reader,  we  have  the  spring  of  their  fortitude, 
and  there  we  touch  the  tender  chords  which  keep  the 
memory  of  the  Confederacy  dear. 

And  really,  friends,  sure  of  the  grounds  of  their 
construction  of  the  Constitution  and  in  the  shadow 
of  the  clouds  that  overhung  them,  addressed  by  all 
the  voices  of  their  and  our  common  nature,  and 
moved  by  those  deep  currents  which  flow  in  every 
heart,  could  any  other  possible  conclusion  be  ex- 
pected of  a proud  people?  I think  not.  V 

And  now,  having  set  forth,  I trust  with  fidelity, 
I know  with  charity,  the  state  of  affairs  North  and 
South,  as  well  as  I can;  and  having  brought  into 
view,  as  faithfully  and  vividly  as  lies  in  my  power, 
the  spirits  which  animated  both  armies,  my  narrative 
will  go  on. 

After  Gettysburg,  Lee,  with  what  must  have  been 
a heavy  heart,  led  his  sorely  wounded  army  back 


26  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


into  Virginia.  Then,  passing  through  the  upper  gaps 
of  the  Blue  Ridge,  he  took  his  stand  once  more  behind 
the  Rappahannock,  near  whose  banks  lower  down 
he  had  played  as  a boy.  Meade  followed  him,  and 
when  I was  recalled  from  Gettysburg  and  rejoined 
his  headquarters,  I found  them  near  Fayetteville, 
a little  hamlet  between  Bealeton  and  Warren  ton. 
They  were  pitched  on  a rise  in  a heaving  old  planta- 
tion more  or  less  shadowed  by  a scattered  growth 
of  young  pines.  I was  glad  to  get  back.  The  month 
I had  passed  at  Gettysburg,  however,  was  very 
interesting,  and  has  left  many  memories,  most  of 
them  dear  to  me.  But  after  a battle  is  over  and  the 
army  gone,  you  see  the  obverse  side  of  glory  so  plainly 
that  you  long  to  get  away  from  the  blood-stained 
fields,  and  the  ever-speaking  loneliness  of  the  shallow 
graves,  to  join  your  young,  light-hearted  friends 
around  the  cheering  camp-fires. 

A few  days  after  my  return  an  incident  took  place 
which  I think  I should  have  laughed  over  whether 
we  had  gained  a victory  at  Gettysburg  or  not.  The 
tent  I occupied  was  nearly  opposite  that  of  Colonel 
Schriver,  Inspector- General  on  the  staff.  The  old 
Colonel  was  rather  spare,  stern,  and  always  neatly 
arrayed.  About  church-time,  one  very  sunshiny 
Sabbath  morning,  I noticed  him  walking  back  and 
forth  before  his  tent  in  high  and  brilliantly  polished 
cavalry  boots,  with  prayer-book  in  hand,  reading 
his  prayers.  I thought  what  a splendid  example  of  a 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TEE  WILDERNESS  27 


follower  of  Jesus!  and  wished  that  I had  the  courage 
to  perform  my  devotions  so  openly,  and  acknowledge 
that  while  I was  a soldier  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
I was  also  a soldier  of  the  Cross.  Suddenly  I heard 
him  call  out,  “James!  James!!”  James  was  his 
strapping  young  colored  boy,  and  had  a very  nappy 
head.  I looked  up.  The  Colonel  had  halted,  and  his 
eyes  were  glaring  across  his  well-defined  nose  toward 
James,  who,  sprawled  out  and  bareheaded,  was  sun- 
ning himself  with  several  other  headquarters  darkies 
behind  the  tent,  and  had  probably  gone  dead  asleep. 
“"What  are  you  up  to  there,  you  damned  black 
rascal!”  roared  the  Colonel.  “Lift  those  tent-walls!” 
James  was  on  his  feet  with  startling  rapidity,  and 
dived  for  the  tent-ropes.  Up  came  the  prayer-book, 
out  went  the  Colonel’s  left  foot,  and  when  I saw  his 
lips  begin  moving  again  reverently,  boylike,  I tum- 
bled down  on  my  bed  and  nearly  died  laughing. 
Even  now  a smile  ripples  as  I recall  the  scene.  Surely, 
our  inconsistencies  are  a blessing,  for  they  are  one 
of  the  perpetual  fountains  of  amusement. 

The  army  was  occupying  the  north  bank  of  the 
Rappahannock,  from  Kelly’s  Ford,  a few  miles  below 
where  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Railroad  crosses 
the  river,  up  to  Warrenton.  It  had  almost  recovered 
from  its  severe  engagement,  and  was  beginning  to 
realize  the  magnitude  and  significance  of  the  victory 
it  had  won.  That  mild  and  deep  joy  which  a soldier 
always  feels  when  he  has  met  danger  and  done  his 


28  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


duty  was  in  the  hearts  of  all.  Camp  was  bound  to 
camp,  corps  to  corps,  and  officer  to  private,  by  the 
ties  of  a new  sense  of  high  fellowship  which  proved 
to  be  abiding.  This  inspiring  relation,  the  most  val- 
uable in  an  army’s  life,  had  been  smelted,  so  to 
speak,  in  those  three  trying  days  at  Gettysburg  when 
cavalry,  infantry,  and  artillery,  line-officers,  staff  - 
officers,  and  privates  in  the  ranks  had  witnessed 
each  other’s  steady,  heroic  conduct.  And  the  result 
of  this  supreme  test  of  courage  was  that  officers  and 
men  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  felt  that  respect 
for  one  another  and  that  pride  in  one  another  that 
only  a battlefield  can  create.  Whoever  will  read  the 
story  of  Gettysburg  will  gain  a notion  how  and  why 
these  ties  were  formed.  Every  living  veteran  who 
was  there  will  recall  Webb,  Cushing,  Woodruff, 
Haskell,  and  Hall;  the  latter  carried  as  mild  a face 
as  graced  the  West  Point  battalion  in  my  day.  I saw 
Haskell  frequently,  and  I have  no  doubt  that  Duty 
and  Courage  visit  often,  and  linger  fondly,  around 
the  spot  where  he  fell  at  Cold  Harbor. 

Allow  me  to  add  what  I know  to  be  true,  that  no 
matter  how  high  or  how  low  may  be  an  officer’s  rank, 
no  matter  where  he  was  educated,  what  name  he 
bears,  what  blood  may  be  in  his  veins,  or  what  wealth 
at  his  command,  if,  when  he  is  going  up  under  fire, 
mounted  or  dismounted,  a private  or  non-commis- 
sioned officer  near  him  advances  beside  him  with 
undaunted  face,  — more  than  once  it  was  a lad  from 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  29 


a farm  or  humble  walk  in  life,  — all  the  claims  of 
rank,  wealth,  and  station  are  lost  in  admiration  and 
sympathetic  comradeship.  What  is  more,  he  never 
forgets  the  boy. 

In  this  connection  I trust  I may  refer  with’ pro- 
priety to  what  a member  of  the  Supreme  Court  of 
the  United  States,  a learned  judge  who  carries  some 
of  the  country’s  best  blood,  and  who  spilled  some  of 
it  on  several  fields,  told  me  one  evening,  before  a 
quietly  burning  wood-fire,  of  an  impression  made 
on  him  at  the  Wilderness.  In  the  midst  of  darkness 
and  widespread  panic,  veteran  regiments  and  bri- 
gades of  the  Sixth  Corps  breaking  badly,  an  officer 
who  had  only  casually  gained  his  attention  called 
out  above  the  din,  in  a voice  of  perfect  control, 
“Steady,  steady  — Massachusetts!”  The  gallant 
regiment  steadied,  and  the  incident  left,  as  an  endur- 
ing memory,  the  cool  voice  of  the  obscure  officer  still 
ringing  across  the  vanished  years. 

Nay,  we  think,  in  fact  we  know,  that  the  final  test 
of  the  soldier  is  when  the  colors  move  forward  or  the 
enemy  comes  on  at  them.  Thank  God  for  all  the 
tender  and  iron-hearted  young  fellows  who  have 
stood  it!  '■ 

From  that  camp  dates  my  first  deep  interest  in 
the  unfortunate  Warren,  for  it  was  there,  while 
messing  with  him  and  his  fellow  engineer-officers  on 
the  staff,  that  I saw  him  day  after  day  at  close  range. 
The  glory  of  having  saved  Round  Top  was  beginning 


30  THE  BATTLE  OF  TEE  WILDERNESS 


to  break  around  him,  and  shortly  after,  as  a reward, 
Meade  assigned  him  to  the  command  of  Hancock’s 
corps,  Hancock  having  been  wounded  at  Gettysburg. 
But  however  keen  and  full  may  have  been  his  in- 
ward joy,  the  joy  of  having  done  his  duty,  and  saved 
a glorious  field,  it  altered  not  his  bearing,  — which  was 
that  of  the  thoughtful,  modest  scholar  rather  than 
the  soldier,  — nor  did  it  kindle  any  vanity  in  look 
or  speech.  It  may  have  accounted,  however,  for  the 
manifestation  of  what  seemed  to  me  a queer  sense 
of  humor,  namely,  his  laughing  and  laughing  again 
while  alone  in  his  tent  over  a small  volume  of  “lim- 
ericks,” the  first  to  appear,  as  I remember,  in  this 
country.  He  would  repeat  them  at  almost  every 
meal,  and,  I think,  with  wonder  that  they  did  not 
seem  nearly  so  amusing  to  others  as  they  did  to  him. 
I am  satisfied  that  it  takes  a transverse  kind  of  humor 
to  enjoy  limericks. 

There  was  a note  of  singular  attraction  in  his  voice. 
His  hair,  rather  long  and  carried  flat  across  his  well- 
balanced  forehead,  was  as  black  as  I have  ever  seen. 
His  eyes  were  small  and  jet  black  also,  one  of  them 
apparently  a bit  smaller  than  the  other,  giving  a 
suggestion  of  cast  in  his  look.  But  the  striking  char- 
acteristic was  an  habitual  and  noticeably  grave 
expression  which  harbored  in  his  dusky,  sallow  face, 
and  instead  of  lighting,  deepened  as  he  rose  in  fame 
and  command.  Now,  as  I recall  his  seriousness  and 
almost  sympathy-craving  look  as  an  instructor  at 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  31 


West  Point,  and  think  over  his  beclouded,  heart- 
broken end,  I never  see  the  name  of  Five  Forks  that 
I do  not  hear  Sheridan  peremptorily  relieving  him 
just  after  the  victory  was  won,  and  while  the  smoke 
of  battle  still  hung  in  the  trees.  From  my  youth,  I 
have  seen  Fate’s  shadow  falling  across  events,  and  I 
incline  to  believe  that  evil  fortune  took  up  its  habita- 
tion in  that  deeply  sallow,  wistful  face  long  before 
he  or  any  one  else  dreamed  of  the  great  Rebellion. 
But,  be  that  as  it  may,  in  that  sunny  field  at  head- 
quarters of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  I gained  my 
first  boyhood  impressions  of  Warren,  whose  sad  fate 
haunts  that  army’s  history. 

And  now,  on  those  soft  mountain  and  valley  winds 
of  memory,  which  always  set  in  when  anything  pen- 
sive warms  the  heart,  are  borne  the  notes  of  the 
bugles  sounding  taps  in  the  camps  around  us  on  those 
long- vanished  August  nights.  Camp  after  camp  takes 
up  the  call,  some  near,  some  far.  The  last  of  the  clear, 
lamenting  tones  die  away  sweetly  and  plaintively 
in  the  distance,  and  back  comes  the  hush  of  night 
as  of  old.  Again  the  sentinels  are  marching  their 
beats  slowly,  most  of  them  thinking  of  home,  now  and 
then  one,  with  moistened  eyes,  of  a baby  in  a cradle. 
Peace  to  the  ashes  of  Warren,  peace  to  those  of  the 
sentinels  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  who  walked 
their  posts  on  those  gone-by,  starry  nights. 


II 


After  several  abortively  offensive  movements  by 
each  of  the  armies  during  the  autumn  of  1863,  they 
went  into  winter  quarters:  Lee,  with  his  army  well 
in  hand,  on  the  south  bank  of  the  Rapidan;  Meade, 
between  the  Rapidan  and  the  Rappahannock.  The 
former’s  headquarters  were  among  some  pines  and 
cedars  at  the  foot  of  Clarke’s  Mountain,  near  Orange 
Court  House;  the  latter’s  were  on  a knoll  covered 
with  tall  young  pines  about  a mile  and  a half  north- 
west from  Brandy  Station.  The  bulk  of  the  army 
of  the  Potomac  was  around  Culpeper  and  Stevens- 
burg;  one  corps,  the  Fifth,  under  Warren,  stretched 
northward  along  the  Orange  and  Alexandria  Rail- 
road— at  present  the  Southern — as  far  as  Calver- 
ton;  the  Sixth  was  between  the  railroad  and  Hazel 
River,  a little  tributary  of  the  Rappahannock,  the 
Second  around  Stevensburg,  the  First  and  Third, 
consolidated  before  we  moved  with  the  other  three, 
were  about  Culpeper.  Lee’s  principal  depot  for  sup- 
plies was  at  Orange  Court  House,  ours  at  Brandy, 
where  I passed  the  greater  part  of  the  winter  in 
charge  of  the  ordnance  depot. 

The  town,  about  midway  between  Culpeper  and  the 
Rappahannock,  then  had  only  three  or  four  houses 
and  a one-story,  unpainted,  lonely  sort  of  a building 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  33 


for  receiving  freight.  A good  deal  of  military  history 
of  interest  is  connected  with  Brandy ; for  in  the 
rolling  fields  of  the  plantations  about  it,  Lee,  just 
before  setting  out  for  Gettysburg,  reviewed  Stuart’s 
cavalry,  ten  to  twelve  thousand  strong.  The  dew  was 
still  on  his  great  victory  at  Chancellorsville,  won  in 
the  month  before,  and  the  review,  according  to  all 
accounts,  was  a pageant,  drawing  people  from  far  and 
near.  Ladies,  young  and  old,  of  Culpeper,  Charlottes- 
ville, and  more  distant  points  in  Virginia,  were  there, 
and  around  some  of  the  horses’  necks,  and  hanging 
from  the  cantles  of  the  saddles,  and  at  the  heads  of 
the  fluttering  guidons,  were  bouquets  and  bunches 
of  wild  flowers  which  they  bad  brought  writh  them. 
They  were  proud,  and  justly  so,  of  their  sons,  bro- 
thers, and  lovers;  and  I really  believe  that  the  future 
of  the  Confederacy  never  looked  so  fair  to  them,  or 
to  those  at  its  helm  as  on  that  June  day. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  in  the  deep  mist  of  the 
morning  following  the  review  our  cavalry  crossed  the 
Rappahannock  and  gave  Stuart  desperate  battle 
right  around  Brandy;  and  it  is  a matter  of  history 
that  our  mounted  force  had  its  baptism  on  that  field. 
For  two  years  it  had  been  a negligible  quantity,  and 
scorned  by  its  enemy ; but  from  then  on  to  the 
end  our  cavalry  met  the  enemy  sternly,  with  increas- 
ing bravery  and  effectiveness.  The  battle  lasted 
nearly  all  day  and  was  very  severe;  Buford,  Gregg, 
Custer,  Merritt,  Kilpatrick,  and  the  lamented  Davis, 


34  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


were  all  there.  My  tent  at  the  station,  pitched  after 
dark  and  partly  floored,  I discovered  later  was  over 
the  grave  of  some  one  who  had  fallen  in  those  re- 
peated charges.  The  other  day  I wandered  over  those 
same  fields:  cattle  and  sheep  were  grazing  up  the 
slopes  where  the  squadrons  had  marched  in  the  June 
sunshine;  killdeers  with  banded  necks  and  bladed 
wings,  turtle-doves,  meadow-larks,  and  serenely 
joyous  little  sparrows  were  flying  and  singing  where 
the  flags  had  fluttered  and  the  bugles  sounded.  j 

In  view  of  the  fact  that  the  bulk  of  the  supplies 
to  meet  the  daily  wants  of  the  army,  then  consisting 
of  a hundred  thousand  men,  and  between  forty  and 
fifty  thousand  animals,  were  sent  to  Brandy,  it  is  easy 
to  imagine  that  it  was  a very  busy  place.  Of  course 
they  all  came  by  rail  from  Washington  and  Alex- 
andria. Those  for  the  ordnance,  hospital,  and  cloth- 
ing departments  were  put  under  cover  in  temporary 
buildings,  while  forage,  and  unperishable  quarter- 
master and  commissary  stores,  were  racked  up  and 
covered  by  tarpaulins  along  the  track  and  sidings. 
Some  of  the  piles  were  immense,  and  from  morning 
till  night  trains  of  army  wagons  were  coming  and 
going,  or  stood  occupying  all  the  open  space  around 
the  station,  waiting  for  their  turn  to  load. 

In  the  history  of  the  Fifth  Massachusetts  is  the 
following  letter  from  one  of  the  sergeants  of  the 
battery.  It  is  dated  April  30,  1864. 

“The  next  battle  will  be  a rouser!  The  rebels  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  35 


Lee’s  army  are  all  ready  for  us,  and  are  said  to  be 
ninety  thousand.  They  will  give  us  a tough  pull  if 
my  opinion  amounts  to  anything. 

“To-day  I was  up  to  Brandy  Station.  You  can 
form  no  idea  of  the  bustle  and  confusion  at  this 
depot  when  the  army  is  getting  ready  to  move.  It 
looked  to  me  as  if  a thousand  or  more  wagons  were 
waiting  to  load,  and  there  were  immense  piles  of 
ammunition  and  all  kinds  of  Ordnance  Stores,  etc., 
etc.,  and  piles  of  boxes  of  hard  bread  as  high  as  two 
and  three-story  houses.  It  reminded  me  some  of  a 
wharf  in  New  York  with  twelve  or  fifteen  ships  load- 
ing and  unloading.” 

The  trains  were  generally  in  charge  of  sergeants, 
but  were  often  accompanied  by  their  brigade  and 
division  officers,  so  that  those  of  us  at  the  head  of 
depots  gained  a wide  acquaintance  throughout  the 
army.  Frequently  these  officers  staid  with  us  for 
dinner;  and  as  my  fellow  messmate  was  Dr.  J.  B. 
Brinton  of  Philadelphia,  in  charge  of  the  medical 
supplies,  and  as  surgeons,  like  certain  aspiring  young 
lawyers,  never  cease  to  talk  about  their  cases,  I 
knew  a good  many  surgeons  well,  and  understood 
at  least  a part  of  their  professional  lingo. 

The  wagons  were  generally  drawn  by  six  mules 
driven  by  negroes,  who  rode  the  nigh  wheeler  and 
managed  the  team  by  a jerk  line  to  the  nigh  leader. 
In  these  days  it  may  seem  like  a shiftless  way  to 
drive  a team,  but  it  worked  well,  and  possibly  be- 


36  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


cause  the  darkies  and  the  mules,  through  some  me- 
dium or  other,  understood  each  other  perfectly;  at 
any  rate,  the  drivers  talked  to  their  teams  as  if  they 
comprehended  every  word  said  to  them;  and  some- 
times it  was  worth  listening  to,  when  the  roads  were 
bad  and  some  of  the  wagons  ahead  of  them  were  stuck 
in  the  mud.  “Calline”  (Caroline,  the  nigh  leader), 
giving  her  an  awakening  jerk  of  the  line,  “stop 
dreamin’  with  dem  y’ears  o’  yourn.”  “Jer’miah” 
(Jeremiah,  the  off  wheeler),  “you’ll  think  the  insex 
is  bit’n  you  if  you  don’t  put  dem  sholdahs  agin  dat 
collah.”  “Dan’l”  (Daniel,  the  wheeler  he  is  on), 
giving  him  a sharp  dig  in  the  ribs  with  his  boot-heels, 
the  road  getting  heavier  every  minute,  “no  foolin’, 
you  old  hahdened  sinnah ! ” “Member,  Mrs.  N’nias ” 
(Mrs.  Ananias,  off  leader),  “if  dis  yere  wagon  sticks 
in  dat  hole  ahead  o’  you,  you  ’ll  wish  you  ’re  down  in 
the  dakh  grave  ’longside  dat  lie’n  husband  o’  yourn.” 
And,  on  reaching  the  worst  place  in  the  road,  yelling 
“Yep!  Yah!”  loud  enough  to  be  heard  half-way  from 
Washington  to  Baltimore,  every  prophet  and  lady 
mule  in  the  team  knew  what  to  expect  if  the  wagon 
stuck,  and  generally  the  faithful  creatures  pulled  it 
through. 

In  one  of  the  teams  of  the  ammunition-trains  that 
came  to  the  depot,  there  was  a little  bay  mule,  the 
leader,  that  wore  a small  and  sweetly  tinkling  sheep- 
bell.  I stroked  her  silky  nose  and  neck  often  and  was 
always  glad  to  see  her.  On  the  Mine  Run  campaign. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  37 


one  of  the  abortive  campaigns  referred  to  above,  in 
December,  1863,  while  riding  from  Ely’s  Ford  to 
Meade’s  headquarters  at  Robertson’s  Tavern  on  the 
Orange  and  Fredericksburg  pike,  a road  which  will 
be  mentioned  over  and  over  again  later,  I overtook  a 
long  train.  My  progress  by  it  was  necessarily  slow, 
for  it  was  a pitch-dark  night  and  the  road  narrow  and 
very  bad.  But  when  I got  near  the  head  of  the  train 
I heard  the  little  tinkling  bell,  and  soon  was  along- 
side the  faithful  creature  tugging  away  to  the  front. 
It  may  seem  ridiculous,  but  I felt  I had  met  a friend, 
and  rode  by  her  side  for  quite  a while.  I do  not  re- 
member seeing  her  again  till  the  army  was  crossing 
the  James  near  Fort  Powhatan. 

While  I do  not  wish  to  encumber  the  narrative 
with  a burden  of  figures,  yet  it  may  interest  the 
reader  to  know  that  we  had  in  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac,  the  morning  we  set  off  on  the  great  cam- 
paign, 4300  wagons  and  835  ambulances.  There 
were  34,981  artillery,  cavalry,  and  ambulance  horses, 
and  22,528  mules,  making  an  aggregate  of  57,509 
animals.  The  strength  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
was  between  ninety-nine  and  one  hundred  thousand 
men.  Burnside,  who  caught  up  with  us  the  second 
day  of  the  Wilderness,  brought  with  him  about 
twenty  thousand  more. 

My  original  telegraph  book,  now  before  me,  shows 
that  I called  for  and  issued  between  April  4 and  May 
2,  the  day  before  we  moved,  in  addition  to  equip- 


88  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


ments  and  supplies  of  all  kinds  for  infantry,  artillery 
and  cavalry,  2,325,000  rounds  of  musket  and  pistol 
cartridges  as  a reserve  for  what  was  already  on  hand. 
When  Sheridan  returned  from  his  Trevilian  raid  and 
battle,  we  then  had  gone  as  far  on  our  way  toward 
Richmond  as  the  White  House,  Mrs.  Washington’s 
attractive  old  home  on  the  Pamunkey.  At  the  men- 
tion of  the  memorable  place,  back  comes  the  odor 
of  mint  being  brewed  in  a julep,  mint  gathered  in 
the  famous  war-stricken  garden;  and  back  come  also 
a squad  of  dust-covered  soldiers  removing  tenderly 
the  bodies  of  their  gallant  commanders,  Porter  and 
Morris,  killed  at  Cold  Harbor,  from  ambulances, 
and  bearing  them  aboard  the  boat  for  home.  While 
at  White  House  I ordered  88,600  rounds  of  pistol 
and  carbine  ammunition  for  Sheridan’s  command 
alone.  When  we  reached  City  Point  a few  days  later 
• — the  Wilderness,  Spotsylvania,  and  Cold  Harbor  lay 
behind  us  — I called,  on  one  requisition,  for  5,863,000 
rounds  of  infantry  and  11,000  rounds  of  artillery 
ammunition,  this  11,000  in  addition  to  a like  amount 
received  at  White  House. 

I should  be  untrue  to  my  memory  of  Brandy  if  I 
did  not  record  my  high  regard  for  my  messmate 
through  all  that  long  winter  of  ’63  and  ’64,  Dr.  J. 
B.  Brinton,  an  assistant  surgeon  in  the  regular  army. 
Transparency  in  minerals  is  rare,  and  always  carries 
a suggestion  of  refinement;  in  the  characters  of  men 
it  is  supreme,  overtopping  genius  itself.  It  was  Brin- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  39 


ton’s  steady  characteristic,  and  in  all  the  long  pro- 
cession of  friends  that  have  blest  my  way  through 
life  I recall  no  one  more  humanly  real,  or  who  had 
more  natural  sweetness,  or  who  cherished  better 
ideals.  Moreover,  there  was  a fountain  of  quiet  joy- 
ousness about  him,  too,  and  I fondly  believe  that  the 
recording  angel  has  but  little  in  his  book  against 
either  of  us  for  those  winter  days  and  nights.  For 
I know  we  passed  them  without  envy,  hatred,  or 
malice  toward  any  one  in  the  world. 

There  was  an  incident  in  our  life  at  Brandy,  con- 
nected with  Gettysburg,  which  possibly  is  worth 
relating.  Batchelder,  whose  map  of  the  battlefield 
of  Gettysburg  is  authority,  and  whom  we  had  fallen 
in  with  while  we  were  there,  asked  to  join  our  mess 
at  Brandy  when  he  came  to  the  army  to  verify  the 
positions  of  the  various  commands.  One  night,  just 
after  we  had  sat  down  to  dinner,  he  entered  quite  tired. 
“Well,”  he  announced,  taking  his  place  at  the  table, 
“I  have  been  in  the  Second  Corps  to-day,  and  I believe 
I have  discovered  how  Joshua  made  the  sun  stand  still. 

I first  went  to regiment  and  had  the  officers  mark 

on  the  map  the  hour  of  their  brigade’s  position  at  a 

certain  point.  Then  I went  to regiment  in  the 

same  brigade;  they  declared  positively  it  was  one  or 
two  hours  earlier  or  later  than  that  given  by  the  other. 
So  it  went  on,  no  two  regiments  or  brigades  agreeing, 
and  if  I hinted  that  some  of  them  must  certainly  be 
mistaken,  they  would  set  me  down  by  saying,  with 


40  THE;  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


severe  dignity,  ‘We  were  there,  Batchelder,  and  we 
ought  to  know,  I guess’;  and  I made  up  my  mind 
that  it  would  take  a day  of  at  least  twenty  hours 
instead  of  thirteen  at  Gettysburg  to  satisfy  their  ac- 
counts. So,  when  Joshua’s  captains  got  around  him 
after  the  fight  and  they  began  to  talk  it  over,  the 
only  way  under  the  heavens  that  he  could  ever 
harmonize  their  statements  was  to  make  the  sun 
stand  still  and  give  them  all  a chance.”  Any  one 
who  has  ever  tried  to  establish  the  exact  position  or 
hour  when  anything  took  place  in  an  engagement 
will  confirm  Batchelder ’s  experience;  and  possibly, 
if  not  too  orthodox,  accept  his  explanation  of  Josh- 
ua’s feat. 

My  duties  called  me  daily  to  Meade’s  headquar- 
ters; and  when  his  Chief  of  Ordnance,  John  R.  Edie  of 
Pennsylvania  and  of  the  class  ahead  of  mine  at  West 
Point,  was  away  on  leave  I took  his  place  there  per- 
manently. Meade  at  this  time  was  in  his  forty-ninth 
year,  and  his  Gettysburg  laurels  were  green.  His  face 
was  spare  and  strong,  of  the  Romanish  type,  its  com- 
plexion pallid.  His  blue  eyes  were  prominent,  coldly 
penetrating  and  underhung  by  sweeping  lobes  that 
when  cares  were  great  and  health  not  good  had  a 
rim  of  purplish  hue.  His  height  was  well  above  the 
average,  and  his  mien  that  of  a soldier,  a man  of 
the  world,  and  a scholarly  gentleman.  He  wore  a 
full,  but  inconspicuous  beard,  and  his  originally  deep 
chestnut,  but  now  frosted  hair,  was  soft  and  inclined 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  41 


to  wave  on  good,  easy  terms  with  his  conspicuous  and 
speaking  forehead.  His  manners  were  native  and 
high-bred,  but,  alas!  they  reared  a barrier  around 
him  which  cut  him  off  from  the  love  of  his  army, 
and  I doubt  if  it  would  ever  have  rallied  around 
him  had  he  been  relieved  and  recalled,  as  it  did 
around  McClellan.  In  social  hours,  when  things  were 
going  well,  no  man  in  civil  or  military  life  would 
outshine  him  in  genial  spirits  or  contribution  of  easy 
and  thoughtful  suggestive  speech. 

He  had,  too,  that  marvelous  instrument,  a rich, 
cultivated  voice.  But  nature  had  not  been  alto- 
gether partial:  she  had  given  him  a most  irritable 
temper.  I have  seen  him  so  cross  and  ugly  that  no 
one  dared  to  speak  to  him,  — in  fact,  at  such  times 
his  staff  and  everybody  else  at  headquarters  kept  as 
clear  of  him  as  possible.  As  the  campaign  progressed, 
with  its  frightful  carnage  and  disappointments,  his 
temper  grew  fiercer  — but,  save  Grant’s,  everybody’s 
got  on  edge,  and  it  was  not  to  be  wondered  at. 
Nevertheless,  Meade  was  a fine,  cultivated,  and  gal- 
lant gentleman,  and  as  long  as  the  victory  of  Gettys- 
burg appeals  to  the  people  he  will  be  remembered 
gratefully,  and  proudly  too.  In  camp  his  military 
coat,  sack  in  cut,  was  always  open,  displaying  his 
well-ordered  linen,  vest,  and  necktie;  when  mounted, 
he  wore  a drooping  army  hat,  yellow  gauntlets,  and 
rode  a bald-faced  horse  with  a fox-walk  which  kept 
all  in  a dog-trot  to  keep  up  with  him,  and  on  more 


42  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


than  one  occasion  some  one  of  the  staff  was  heard 
to  say,  “Damn  that  horse  of  Meade’s!  I wish  he 
would  either  go  faster  or  slower.” 

Hancock,  who  commanded  the  Second  Corps,  was, 
like  Hooker,  a very  handsome,  striking-looking  man ; 
both  were  of  the  military  type  and  looked  and  moved 
grandly.  He  was  symmetrically  large,  with  chest- 
nut hair  and  rather  low  forehead,  but  authority 
was  in  his  open  face,  which,  when  times  were  storm- 
ing, became  the  mirror  of  his  bold  heart;  “so  that 
in  battle,”  says  Walker,  his  distinguished  Inspec- 
tor-General, “ where  his  men  could  see  him,  as 
at  Williamsburg  and  Gettysburg,  he  lifted  them 
to  the  level  of  his  impetuous  valor.  But  when 
he  was  surrounded  by  woods  and  he  could  not  see 
his  enemy,  as  at  Ream’s  Station  and  the  Wilder- 
ness, he  was  restless  and  shorn  of  much  of  his  effec- 
tiveness, very  unlike  the  great  commander  he  was 
as  he  rode  up  and  down  his  lines,  inspiring  them 
with  his  electrical  energy,  until  severely  wounded, 
when  Pickett  was  coming  on.”  When  he  returned  to 
duty  I happened  to  be  at  Meade’s  headquarters. 
Some  one  observed,  “There’s  Hancock,”  who  was 
just  dismounting.  Meade  came  hurrying  out  from  his 
quarters,  bareheaded  and  with  illuminated  face  — 
I can  hear  his  rich-toned  voice  as  he  said,  “I’m  glad 
to  see  you  again,  Hancock,”  and  grasped  the  latter’s 
outstretched  hand  with  both  of  his.  They  had  not 
seen  each  other  since  the  great  day. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  43 


Sedgwick,  who  commanded  the  Sixth  Corps,  was 
stocky,  had  short,  curling  chestnut  hair,  was  a bache- 
lor, and  spent  lots  of  time  playing  solitaire.  His 
whole  manner  breathed  of  gentleness  and  sweetness, 
his  soldiers  called  him  Uncle  John,  and  in  his  broad 
breast  was  a boy’s  heart.  I saw  him  only  a few 
hours  before  it  ceased  to  beat  at  Spotsylvania. 

Sheridan  joined  the  army  just  before  we  moved 
and  so  I saw  much  less  of  him  than  of  any  of  the 
other  corps  commanders.  He  was  not  of  delicate 
fibre.  His  pictures  are  excellent,  preserving  faith- 
fully the  animation  of  his  ruddy,  square  face  and 
large,  glowing  dark  eyes.  With  his  close  army  asso- 
ciates he  threw  off  rank  and  fame  and  made  many 
a night  memorable  and  loud,  and  Lee’s  final  over- 
throw is  due  in  great  measure  to  him.  He  had  a 
genius  for  war  and  his  name  will  last  long. 

Meade’s  chief  of  staff  was  Humphreys,  and  as  so 
much  of  the  success  or  failure  of  an  army  hangs  on 
that  position,  a word  about  him  will  not  be  out  of 
place.  Moreover,  his  services  were  great  as  a corps 
commander,  for  after  we  got  in  front  of  Petersburg, 
Hancock,  on  account  of  his  Gettysburg  wound,  had 
to  give  up  command,  and  Meade  assigned  Hum- 
phreys to  succeed  him  at  the  head  of  the  famous 
Second  Corps.  He  was  a small,  bow-legged  man, 
with  chopped-off,  iron  gray  moustache;  and  when  he 
lifted  his  army  hat  you  saw  a rather  low  forehead,  and 
a shock  of  iron-gray  hair.  His  blue-gray  dauntless 


44  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


eyes  threw  into  his  stern  face  the  coldness  of  ham- 
mered steel.  I never  saw  it  lit  up  with  joy  but 
once,  and  that  was  long  after  the  war,  as  he  met  an 
old  classmate  at  West  Point  on  graduation  day. 
And  yet  off  duty,  by  his  simple  manners,  unfailing 
in  their  courtesy,  and  his  clear,  easy,  and  informing 
talk,  he  bound  friends  and  strangers  to  him  closely. 
Look  at  him  well:  you  are  gazing  at  a hero,  one 
who  has  the  austere  charm  of  dignity  and  a well- 
stored  mind.  Like  a knight  of  old,  Humphreys  led 
his  division  against  the  heights  of  Fredericksburg; 
and  at  Gettysburg,  on  the  second  day,  he  was  only 
driven  from  the  Emmitsburgh  road  salient  after  a 
most  desperate  defense,  probably  saving  the  line.  He 
graduated  in  the  class  of  1831,  Meade  in  that  of  1835. 

And  now  I come  to  two  men  on  Meade’s  staff 
whose  names  like  daisies  in  a meadow  dot  the  his- 
tory of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac:  Seth  Williams, 
who  was  the  Adjutant-General,  and  General  Henry 
J.  Hunt,  Chief  of  Artillery.  To  set  them  forth  so 
that  the  reader  would  see  them  and  know  them  as 
they  were,  would  give  me  keen  pleasure,  for  there 
never  was  a sweeter-tempered  or  kindlier  heart  than 
Williams’s,  or  a braver  one  than  Hunt’s.  Williams’s 
hair  was  red,  his  face  full,  open  and  generous,  and 
always  lit  up  as  if  there  were  a harp  playing  in  his 
breast.  At  Appomattox,  when  Lee  was  going  through 
the  trying  ordeal  of  surrendering  his  army,  the  only 
one  of  all  in  the  room  whom  he  greeted  with  anything 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  45 


like  cordiality  was  Williams;  for  all  others  his  face 
wore  its  native  dignity.  Williams  was  from  Maine, 
and  had  been  Lee’s  adjutant  at  West  Point  when 
he  was  superintendent. 

Hunt,  the  chief  of  artillery,  whose  complexion  was 
about  the  color  of  an  old  drum-head,  had  rather  dull 
black  eyes,  separated  by  a thin  nose.  His  West  Point 
classmates  loved  him,  and  called  him  “Cupid.”  He 
was  lion-hearted,  and  had  won  brevet  on  brevet  for 
gallant  conduct.  At  Gettysburg  it  was  Hunt,  riding 
through  the  storm,  who  brought  up  the  fresh  bat- 
teries and  put  them  into  action  at  the  critical  moment 
of  Pickett’s  charge.  Both  he  and  Williams  have  long 
since  made  their  bed  in  the  grave. 

There  is  a great  temptation  to  dwell  on  other  mem- 
bers of  the  staff.  On  Ingalls,  the  chief  quartermaster, 
a classmate  of  Grant’s:  a chunky,  oracular-looking 
man  who  carried  sedulously  a wisp  of  long  hair  up 
over  his  otherwise  balding  pate,  and  who,  besides 
being  the  best  quartermaster  the  war  produced, 
could  hold  his  own  very  well  with  the  best  poker 
players  in  the  army  or  Congress,  and  in  those  days 
there  were  some  very  good  ones  in  both  Senate  and 
House.  On  McParlin,  the  head  of  the  medical  depart- 
ment, Duane,  the  chief  engineer,  Michler,  Mendell, 
and  Theodore  Lyman  of  Boston,  of  Meade’s  staff.  All 
were  my  seniors,  and  their  character  and  services  I 
remember  with  veneration.  Especially  would  I love 
to  dwell  on  those  who  were  about  my  own  age,  not 


46  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


one  of  us  over  twenty -five,  mere  boys  as  it  were: 
Sanders,  Bache,  Bates,  Edie,  Cadwalader,  Biddle, 
Pease,  and  handsome  George  Meade,  with  whom 
I passed  many  a pleasant  hour.  So  far  as  our  services 
or  personalities  had  significance,  we  were  like  the 
little  feathery  clouds  which  sometimes  fringe  great 
ones  as  they  bear  steadily  on.  And,  truly  like  them, 
we  have  melted  away.  The  big  clouds,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  we  accompanied,  at  more  or  less  dis- 
tance, with  such  light  hearts,  Grant  and  Meade,  are 
lying  richly  banded  low  down  across  the  glowing  sun- 
set sky  of  History.  "When  I visited  the  knoll,  a few 
weeks  ago,  where  Meade  had  his  headquarters,  and 
where  we  all  passed  a happy  winter,  — it  is  now 
bare,  clothed  only  in  grass,  with  here  and  there  an 
apple  tree  or  a locust  in  bloom,  that  have  taken 
the  places  of  the  young  pines,  — I thought  of  them 
all.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  the  scene  from  the 
old  camp  offered  its  contrasts.  Where  desolation 
had  brooded,  clover  was  blooming;  in  the  fields 
where  the  bleaching  bones  of  cattle,  horses,  and 
mules,  had  stippled  the  twilight,  the  plough  was 
upturning  the  rich  red  earth  with  its  sweet,  fresh 
breath  of  promise.  In  short,  the  choral  songs  of 
Peace  and  Home  had  replaced  the  dirges  which 
underlie  the  march  of  glory. 

Grant  had  his  headquarters  in  the  Barbour  house 
in  Culpeper,  now  the  site  of  the  county  jail.  At  this 
time  he  was  in  his  forty-second  year,  having  gradu- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  47 


ated  at  West  Point  in  1843.  I am  not  vain  enough 
to  think  that  anything  I may  say  will  add  to  the 
world’s  knowledge  of  him.  Several  of  his  personal 
aides,  and  many  admirers,  have  written  books  about 
him  which  like  sconces  throw  their  beams  on  his  per- 
sonality and  remarkable  career,  but  neither  they  as 
friends  or  the  predacious  critics  who  have  driven  their 
beaks  fiercely  into  him,  have  yet  revealed  to  me  the 
source  of  the  fascinating  mystery  in  his  greatness. 

When  he  came  to  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  — I 
remember  the  day  well  — I never  was  more  surprised 
in  my  life.  I had  expected  to  see  quite  another  type 
of  man:  one  of  the  chieftain -type,  surveying  the 
world  with  dominant,  inveterate  eyes  and  a certain 
detached  military  loftiness.  But  behold,  what  did 
I see?  A medium-sized,  mild,  unobtrusive,  incon- 
spicuously dressed,  modest  and  naturally  silent  man. 
He  had  a low,  gently  vibrant  voice  and  steady, 
thoughtful,  softly  blue  eyes.  Not  a hint  of  self-con- 
sciousness, impatience,  or  restlessness,  either  of  mind 
or  body;  on  the  contrary,  the  centre  of  a pervasive 
quiet  which  seemed  to  be  conveyed  to  every  one 
around  him  — even  the  orderlies  all  through  the  cam- 
paign were  obviously  at  their  ease.  I often  looked 
at  him  as  I might  have  looked  at  any  mystery,  as 
day  after  day  I saw  him  at  his  headquarters,  es- 
pecially after  we  had  reached  City  Point,  — the 
Wilderness,  Spotsylvania,  and  Cold  Harbor,  with 
their  frightful  losses,  lying  behind  us. 


48  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


There  was  nothing  in  his  manner  or  his  tone  or  his 
face  that  indicated  that  he  had  ever  had  anything 
to  do  with  the  victories  of  Fort  Donelson,  Vicksburg, 
and  Missionary  Ridge,  or  that  his  unfinished  task, 
so  momentous  for  the  country,  troubled  him.  There 
was  certainly  something  evoking  about  him.  What 
of  the  earth,  earthy,  what  of  exceeding  greatness, 
what  dim  constellation  of  virtues,  were  looking  out 
of  that  imperturbable  but  sadly  earnest  face?  At 
one  time,  and  not  long  before  the  period  dealt  with, 
lean  Want  had  sat  at  his  table.  Few  tried  companions 
frequented  his  door  or  cheered  his  fireside  then.  The 
war  comes  on,  the  spirit  of  the  age,  as  I believe,  in 
the  guise  of  Opportunity  knocks  at  his  door,  and 
without  powerful  friends  to  back  him,  and  with  no 
social  or  political  influence  to  clear  the  way  for  him, 
in  less  than  four  years,  never  courting  advancement, 
never  resenting  malevolent  criticism  or  ill  treatment, 
tempted  always,  there  he  was  aloft  in  the  country’s 
eye  the  winner  of  its  telling  victories,  a Lieutenant- 
General  in  command  of  all  the  armies  of  the  North, 
and  with  the  destiny  of  the  Republic  hanging  on  him ! 
Has  Genius  ever  shown  her  transcendency  more  mas- 
terfully? 

It  is  needless  for  me  to  add  that,  marvelous  as  this 
career  had  been,  the  future  was  to  unfold  it,  rising 
far  above  the  level  of  wonder.  If  his  antagonist  Lee 
be  the  culmination  of  the  gentleman  and  soldier  of 
our  land,  and  of  all  lands,  Grant  made  the  splendor 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  49 


of  his  background  for  him  by  putting  into  the  hith- 
erto hard  face  of  war  two  humanizing  features,  chiv- 
alry’s posies  so  fragrant  with  glory,  magnanimity 
and  modesty  in  the  hour  of  Victory. 

There  was  one  man  on  Grant’s  staff  whose  name 
should  not  be  forgotten ; in  fact,  it  ought  to  be  carved 
on  every  monument  erected  to  Grant,  for  it  was 
through  him,  Colonel  John  F.  Rawlins,  his  chief  of 
staff,  that  Grant’s  good  angel  reached  him  her  steady- 
ing and  uplifting  hand.  He  was  above  medium  size, 
wore  a long  black  beard,  and  talked  in  a loud,  em- 
phatic voice.  Sincerity  and  earnestness  was  the  look 
of  his  face. 

He  had  on  his  staff  three  of  my  West  Point  ac- 
quaintances, Comstock,  Babcock,  and  Porter.  Com- 
stock had  been  one  of  the  instructors  in  mathematics; 
Babcock  and  Porter  had  been  in  the  corps  with  me. 
Captain  Hudson  of  his  staff  I have  good  reason  for 
remembering;  for  I was  playing  “seven-up,”  with 
him  and  the  late  Admiral  Clitz  of  the  navy,  wThen 
my  ordnance  depot  at  City  Point  was  blown  up  by  a 
torpedo  brought  down  from  Richmond,  and  placed 
by  a couple  of  daring  Confederates  clothed  in  our 
uniform  on  the  deck  of  a barge  loaded  with  artillery 
ammunition.  Our  innocent  game  was  going  on  in 
the  tent  of  Captain  Mason,  who  commanded  Grant’s 
escort.  First  came  the  explosion  of  the  depot,  that 
shook  the  earth  and  was  felt  for  miles;  then  a solid 
shot  tore  through  the  mess  chest.  I doubt  if  a game 


50  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


of  cards  ever  ended  quicker  than  that  one.  We 
fairly  flew  from  the  tent,  and  at  once  came  under 
a shower  of  bursting  shells  and  falling  wreckage. 
One  of  the  barge’s  old  ribs,  that  must  have  weighed 
at  least  a ton,  dropped  right  in  front  of  Clitz. 
Changing  his  course,  he  uttered  only  one  remark,  the 
first  half  of  the  35th  verse  of  the  11th  chapter  of  the 
Holy  Gospel  of  Saint  John.  Then,  with  eyes  on  the 
ground,  and  wondering,  I suspect,  what  would  come 
next,  he  passed  at  great  speed  right  by  Grant,  who 
in  his  usually  calm  voice  asked,  “Where  are  you 
going,  Clitz?”  The  admiral  hove  to,  and  then 
streaked  it  for  his  war  vessel,  and  we  never  finished 
the  game. 

The  youngest  and  nearest  my  own  age  on  Grant’s 
staff  was  “Billy”  Dunn,  one  of  the  best  and  truest 
friends  I ever  had.  He  had  reddish  hair  and  naturally 
smiling  eyes,  and  died  not  long  after  the  war.  Peace, 
peace  be  on  the  spot  where  the  brave  and  sweet- 
hearted  fellow  sleeps! 

The  looming  gravity  of  the  situation  North  and 
South,  which  I have  tried  to  depict,  left  no  doubt,  I 
think,  in  the  minds  of  Grant  and  Lee,  that  the  com- 
ing campaign  called  on  Lee  to  give  Grant  a crushing 
defeat  at  the  very  outset  of  the  campaign ; or  at  least 
a blow  that  would  send  him  reeling  back  across 
the  Rapidan,  leaving  him  stunned  and  helpless  for 
months,  as  Burnside  and  Hooker  had  been  left  before 
him.  For  he  knew,  and  every  observer  of  the  times 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  51 


knew,  that  such  a defeat  would  give  to  the  dastard 
Peace  Party,  on  whom  the  last  hope  of  the  Con- 
federacy hung,  immediate  and  bold  encouragement 
to  declare  “the  War  a failure,”  and  at  the  coming 
presidential  election, Lincoln’s  administration,  pledged 
to  its  continuance,  would  be  swept  away.  In  that 
case,  every  leader  and  private  in  the  Confederate 
Army  knew  that,  once  their  inwardly  despised  friends 
got  hold  of  the  helm,  under  the  cowardly  cloak  of 
humanity  they  would  ask  for  an  armistice.  That 
granted,  the  goal  would  be  reached  and  their  weary 
Confederacy,  weighted  down  with  slavery,  would 
be  at  rest.  The  children  of  the  leaders  of  the  Peace 
Party  of  the  North  ought  to  thank  God  for  balking 
their  fathers’  incipient  treason;  for  where  would 
their  present  pride  of  country  be?  The  last  hopes 
then  of  reaching  a harbor  called  on  Lee  for  a vic- 
tory; our  country’s  destiny  on  Grant,  for  the  com- 
plete destruction  of  Lee’s  army;  for  until  then  there 
could  be  no  peace  with  safety  and  honor. 

Little  would  it  avail  or  does  it  seem  necessary  for 
me  to  discuss  the  military  problem  that  confronted 
these  two  great  Captains.  What  they  might  have  done 
by  throwing  their  armies  this  way  and  that  I ’ll  leave 
to  the  bass-drum  wisdom  of  theoretical  strategists. 
The  moves  they  made  were  determined  primarily, 
as  in  all  campaigns,  by  the  natural  features  of  the 
country,  the  safety  and  facility  of  obtaining  supplies, 
and  the  exigencies  of  their  respective  governments. 


52  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


As  has  been  said,  Grant’s  and  Lee’s  armies  were 
on  the  Orange  and  Alexandria,  now  the  Southern, 
Railroad.  Each  was  about  the  same  distance  from 
his  capital,  whose  capture  meant  in  either  case  the 
end  of  the  war.  The  Confederacy  would  have  its 
place  among  nations  if  Lee  took  Washington,  its 
death  beyond  resurrection  if  Grant  took  Richmond. 
Grant’s  headquarters  at  Culpeper  were  about  sixty 
miles  southwest  from  Washington;  Lee’s  at  Orange 
Court  House,  sixteen  or  eighteen  miles  farther  south, 
were  in  the  vicinity  of  seventy  miles  northwest  from 
Richmond;  in  geometrical  terms,  the  armies  were 
at  the  apex  of  a flat  isosceles  triangle,  its  base  a line 
running  almost  due  north  and  south  from  Washing- 
ton to  Richmond.  Twenty-odd  miles  to  the  west, 
beyond  the  camps  of  both  armies,  rose  in  matchless 
splendor  the  azure  sky-line  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  behind 
which  lies  the  Valley  of  the  Shenandoah,  Lee’s  gate- 
way for  his  two  invasions  of  the  North,  and  availed 
of  by  him  for  repeated  strategical  movements 
whereby  he  forced  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  to  fall 
back  for  the  safety  of  Washington.  We  all  see  now 
that  a point  convenient  to  the  Baltimore  and  Ohio 
road  at  the  foot  of  the  valley  should  have  been  forti- 
fied, garrisoned,  and  guarded  as  tenaciously  as  Wash- 
ington itself. 

Down  from  this  beautiful  range  come  the  Rappa- 
hannock and  the  Rapidan,  — rivers  whose  names  we 
shall  repeat  so  often,  — which,  after  flowing  through 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  53 


many  an  oak  and  chestnut  wood  and  by  many  a 
smiling  plantation,  meet  in  the  northern  belt  of  the 
Wilderness,  about  twenty  miles  as  the  crow  flies  east 
of  Culpeper,  and  nearly  the  same  distance  west  of 
Fredericksburg.  These  rivers,  the  Rappahannock 
somewhat  the  larger,  the  Rapidan  the  faster,  hold 
rich  secrets  of  the  struggle,  for  many  a night  the 
armies  camped  on  their  banks,  and  many  a time 
crossed  and  recrossed  them,  sometimes  in  victory, 
and  after  Fredericksburg  and  Chancellorsville  in 
dismal  defeat.  And  now  that  I speak  of  them,  I 
see  them  flowing  in  their  willow-fringed  channels 
and  I hear  their  low  musical  tongues  once  more. 

‘The  country  through  which  they  run,  and  our  corps’ 
camps  during  the  winter  of  1863-4,  can  best  be  seen 
from  the  top  of  Mt.  Pony,  a wooded  detached  foothill 
of  the  Blue  Ridge,  that  rises  abruptly  near  Culpeper. 
From  its  top,  looking  north,  the  railroad  is  seen  bear- 
ing on  from  the  Rappahannock,  through  an  undu- 
lating farming  section,  that  is  green  and  lovely:  first 
past  Elkwood,  then  Brandy,  and  by  one  plantation 
after  another,  on  into  the  old  and  attractive  town  of 
Culpeper.  Somewhat  to  the  northeast,  four  or  five 
miles  away,  and  about  equidistant  from  Brandy  and 
Culpeper,  is  a hamlet  of  a half-dozen  age-worn  houses 
called  Stevensburg,  sitting  at  the  foot  of  a bare  hill 
that  looks  like  a giant  asleep.  It  is  Cole’s  or  Lone 
Tree  Hill,  so  called  from  a single  tall  primeval  tree  that 
spread  its  leafless  limbs  against  the  winter’s  morning 


54  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


and  evening  skies.  On  and  around  this  hill  were  the 
camps  of  Hancock.  A short  while  before  we  moved, 
Sheridan  assembled  the  second  and  third  divisions 
of  his  cavalry  near  Stevensburg.  Custer  had  his 
headquarters  in  the  Barbour  House,  and  Wilson  at 
the  old  Grayson  Manor,  known  as  Salubria,  where 
Jefferson  on  many  an  occasion  was  a guest  and  where 
Lady  Spottswood  is  buried.  Stevensburg,  like  so 
many  of  the  old  dreaming  country  towns  of  Virginia, 
has  proud  memories  of  distinguished  sons. 

From  the  northwest  comes  into  the  little  village 
the  road  from  Brandy,  and  from  the  west  that  from 
Culpeper;  both  are  mighty  pleasant  ones  to  follow 
in  May,  when  the  rolling  fields  on  either  hand  are 
dotted  with  herds  of  grazing  steers  and  the  meadow- 
larks are  piping  their  clear,  high,  skyey  notes.  When 
we  set  off  for  the  Wilderness,  Meade  and  his  staff, 
followed  by  the  Sixth  Corps,  came  down  the  one  from 
Brandy;  Grant  and  his  staff,  followed  by  Warren 
with  the  Fifth  Corps,  on  that  from  Culpeper.  At  the 
village  these  roads  enter  the  main  one  that  was  built 
in  Washington’s  boyhood  to  connect  Stevensburg 
with  Fredericksburg.  This  old  highway  is  narrow, 
and  its  course  from  Stevensburg  is  almost  due  east, 
sometimes  skirting  lonely  clearings  but  warping  its 
way  most  of  the  time  through  sombre  woods,  woods 
with  a natural  deep  silence,  but  flaming  here  and 
there  with  clumps  of  azaleas  in  their  season.  At  Ely’s 
Ford  it  crosses  the  Rapidan,  which  three  or  four 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  55 


miles  farther  on  falls  into  the  Rappahannock.  At 
Sheppard’s  Grove,  midway  between  Stevensburg  and 
Ely’s  Ford,  a road  branches  off  to  Germanna  Ford  on 
the  Rapidan. 

Alone  in  the  woods  along  this  road,  and  standing 
close  by  it,  is  a little  frame  house  painted  white. 
In  its  narrow  dooryard  and  under  each  window  to 
the  right  and  left  of  the  door  is  a yellow  rose-bush, 
and  on  passing  it  lately,  attracted  by  the  beautiful 
roses  then  in  full  bloom  and  the  open  door,  I ven- 
tured to  stop  and  make  a call.  I discovered  that  a 
pensioner,  one  of  our  old  cavalry  soldiers,  lived  there. 
He  was  not  at  home,  but  his  wife,  a frank,  naturally 
pleasant  gray-haired  woman,  seated  in  her  rocking- 
chair,  told  me  that  she  was  born  near  by,  her  people 
rankly  Southern,  and  that  she  fell  in  love  with  her 
Yankee  husband  while  he  was  a sentinel  at  her 
father’s  house.  After  the  war  — and  she  remembered 
the  volleys  in  the  Wilderness  well  — her  lover  came 
back,  they  were  married,  bought  the  little  farm,  built 
the  house,  and  transplanted  the  roses  from  the  old 
home:  and  as  I rode  away  I thought  of  the  red  rose 
of  Lancaster  and  the  white  rose  of  York. 

About  a mile  and  a half  beyond  their  little  clear- 
ing is  Germanna  Ford  on  the  Rapidan.  From  there 
runs  a road  to  Stevensburg  that  crosses  on  its  zigzag 
way  a pretty  brook  and  passes  through  the  famous 
Willis  plantation.  All  the  roads  that  I have  men- 
tioned, and  over  which  we  moved,  are  intersected  by 


56  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


many  country  roads  that  are  but  little  more  than 
tracks  through  the  woods  and  fields. 

There  are  two  streams  flowing  through  the  land- 
scape that  spreads  from  Mt.  Pony,  which  I should 
like  to  mention,  for  I am  indebted  to  them  for  many 
a pleasant  murmur,  and  because  their  mingled 
waters,  pouring  over  the  dam  at  Paoli  Mills,  now 
known  as  Stone’s,  told  me  where  I was  in  the  still 
hours  of  the  night,  when  misled  by  a guide  while 
carrying  Grant’s  first  despatches  from  the  Wilder- 
ness. They  are  Jonas  and  Mountain  runs.  The 
former,  much  the  smaller,  rises  in  the  fields  beyond 
Brandy,  the  latter  among  the  foothills  of  the  Blue 
Ridge.  They  meet  near  Lone  Tree  Hill,  and  Moun- 
tain Run  winds  on  northeastwardly  to  the  Rappa- 
hannock, its  course  through  stretches  of  oak,  pine, 
and  cedar  forest,  where  wild  turkeys  breed  and  red- 
birds  sing.  When  I was  down  there  the  other  day, 
the  miller  at  Clarico’s  Mill,  three  or  four  miles  above 
Stone’s,  told  me  that  a tame  turkey,  perfectly  white, 
had  joined  a flock  of  wild  ones  and  roamed  the  neigh- 
boring woods  with  them,  — which  suggests  that  our 
natures,  like  theirs,  perhaps,  are  not  changed  by  the 
feathers  we  wear. 

Finally,  before  leaving  Mt.  Pony  there  is  one 
more  feature  to  which  I wish  to  call  attention.  To 
the  south,  after  traversing  a gently  sloping  country 
sprinkled  with  farms  and  woods,  the  fences  between 
the  fields  pomponed  by  small  dark  green  cedars,  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  57 


eye  catches  the  top  of  a blue  veiled  peak.  It  is  Clarke’s 
Mountain,  beyond  the  Rapidan,  and  was  Lee’s  signal 
station.  But  the  particular  feature  to  which  I wish 
to  direct  the  reader’s  eye  lies  east  of  Clarke’s  Moun- 
tain, a vast  expanse  of  forest  green,  in  spots  almost 
black,  and  reaching  clear  to  the  distant  circling  hori- 
zon. Gaze  at  it  long  and  well,  for  that  is  the  Wilder- 
ness, and  when  I saw  it  last  from  the  top  of  the  moun- 
tain great  white  clouds  were  slowly  floating  over  it. 

In  its  wooded  depths  three  desperate  engagements 
were  fought  between  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  and 
the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  — Chancellorsville, 
Wilderness,  and  Spotsylvania,  — in  which,  first  and 
last,  over  sixty  thousand  men,  whose  average  age 
did  not  exceed  twenty-two  years,  were  killed  and 
wounded.  A circle  described  from  Piney  Branch 
Church  on  the  Catharpin  road  with  a radius  of  five 
miles  will  take  in  all  these  fields. 

What  is  known  as  the  "Wilderness  begins  near 
Orange  Court  House  on  the  west  and  extends  al- 
most to  Fredericksburg,  twenty -five  or  thirty  miles 
to  the  east.  Its  northern  bounds  are  the  Rapidan 
and  the  Rappahannock,  and,  owing  to  their  winding 
channels,  its  width  is  somewhat  irregular.  At  Spot- 
sylvania, its  extreme  southern  limit,  it  is  some  ten 
miles  wide.  There,  as  along  most  of  its  southern 
border,  it  gives  way  to  a comparatively  open  country. 

This  theatre  of  bloody  conflicts  is  a vast  sea,  so  to 
speak,  of  dense  forest  — a second  growth  more  than 


58  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


a century  old.  It  is  made  up  chiefly  of  scrubby, 
stubborn  oaks,  and  low-limbed,  disordered,  haggard 
pines,  — for  the  soil  is  cold  and  thin,  — with  here 
and  there  scattering  clumps  of  alien  cedars.  Some  of 
the  oaks  are  large  enough  to  cut  two  railroad  ties, 
and  every  once  in  a while  you  come  across  an  acre  or 
two  of  pines  some  ten  to  twelve  inches  in  diameter, 
tall  and  tapering,  true  to  the  soaring  propensities  of 
their  kind.  But  generally,  the  trees  are  noticeably 
stunted,  and  so  close  together,  and  their  lower  limbs 
so  intermingled  with  a thick  underbrush,  that  it  is  very 
difficult  indeed  to  make  one’s  way  through  them. 

The  southern  half  of  this  lonely  region  may  be 
designated  as  low  or  gently  rolling;  but  the  northern 
half,  along  the  rivers,  is  marked  by  irregularly  swell- 
ing ridges.  Where  the  battle  was  fought,  which  is 
at  about  the  heart  of  the  Wilderness,  and  especially 
on  Warren’s  front,  the  surface  of  the  ground  resem- 
bles a choppy  sea  more  than  anything  else.  There, 
like  waves,  it  will  heave,  sometimes  gradually  and 
sometimes  briskly,  into  ridges  that  all  at  once  will 
drop  and  break  in  several  directions.  Soon  recover- 
ing itself,  off  it  will  go  again,  smoothly  ascending 
or  descending  for  a while,  then  suddenly  pile  up  and 
repeat  what  it  did  before,  namely,  fall  into  narrow 
swales  and  shallow  swamps  where  willows  and  alders 
of  one  kind  and  another  congregate,  all  tied  together 
more  or  less  irrevocably  by  a round,  bright-green, 
bamboo-like  vine. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  59 


There  is  something  about  the  scrawny,  moss- 
tagged  pines,  the  garroted  alders,  and  hoary  willows, 
that  gives  a very  sad  look  to  these  wet  thickets; 
and  yet,  for  a few  weeks  in  May  and  June,  from  them 
a swamp  honeysuckle,  and  now  and  then  a wild  rose, 
will  greet  you  joyously.  As  might  be  expected  where 
the  trees  stand  so  thickly  as  they  do  in  the  Wilderness, 
a large  number  are  dead.  Here  and  there  a good- 
sized  oak  has  been  thrown  down  by  a storm,  smashing 
everything  in  its  way  and  pulling  up  with  its  roots 
a shock  of  reddish-gray  earth,  making  a bowl-shaped 
pool  on  whose  banks  the  little  tree-frogs  pipe  the 
solitude.  Others  in  falling  have  been  caught  in  the 
arms  of  their  living  competitors  and  rest  there  with 
their  limbs  bleaching,  and  now  and  then  is  one  stand- 
ing upright,  alone,  with  lightning-scored  trunk  and 
bare,  pronged  limbs,  dead,  dead  among  the  living 
green.  The  woods  everywhere  abound  in  tall  huckle- 
berry bushes,  from  whose  depending  limbs  hang 
racemes  of  modest,  white,  bell-shaped  flowers. 

As  in  all  the  woods  of  Virginia,  there  are  many 
dogwoods  scattered  about.  Both  they  and  the  huckle- 
berries were  in  full  bloom  when  the  battle  was  going 
on,  the  dogwoods,  with  outspread,  shelving  branches, 
appearing  at  times  through  the  billowing  smoke  like 
shrouded  figures.  I wonder  how  many  glazing  eyes 
looked  up  into  them  and  the  blooming  bushes  and 
caught  fair  visions ! 

Running  through  the  Wilderness  its  entire  length 


60  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


is  what  is  known  as  the  Fredericksburg  and  Orange 
Court-House  Turnpike,  a famous  post  road  in  the 
old  stage  days.  Leaving  Fredericksburg,  it  bears 
almost  due  west  till  it  reaches  the  heart  of  the  Wil- 
derness; there  it  crosses  Wilderness  Run,  and  then, 
diverting  its  course  slightly  to  the  south  of  west, 
aims  straight  for  Orange  Court  House,  some  eighteen 
miles  away.  At  the  time  of  the  war  the  stage-day 
glory  of  the  road  and  its  old  taverns,  Dowdall’s  at 
Chancellorsville,  the  Wilderness  overlooking  the  run 
of  the  same  name,  Robertson’s  at  Locust  Grove,  was 
all  gone;  most  of  the  stables  and  some  of  the  houses 
were  mere  ruins,  and  the  road-bed  itself  lapsed  into 
that  of  a common  earth  road.  When  the  system  of 
plank  roads  came  into  vogue,  about  1845,  one 
was  built  a few  miles  south  of,  but  more  or  less 
paralleling,  the  Turnpike.  It  is  known  as  the  Orange 
and  Fredericksburg  Plank  road,  and  at  the  time  of 
the  battle  was  in  about  the  same  forlorn  state  as  its 
old  rival,  the  Pike.  If  the  reader  has  interest  enough 
in  the  narrative  to  consult  a map,  he  will  see  the 
relation  of  these  roads  to  each  other  at  the  battle- 
field, and  will  be  able  to  locate  three  other  roads, 
namely  the  Brock,  Germanna  Ford  and  the  Flat  Run 
roads,  also  two  runs,  Wilderness  and  Caton’s,  and 
the  Lacy  farm.  These  are  the  natural  features  in  the 
richly  crimsoned  damask,  so  to  speak,  of  the  battle 
of  the  Wilderness. 

v The  Lacy  farm  is  a part  of  a once  large  domain 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  61 


known  as  Elkwood,  and  has  what  in  its  day  was  a 
stately  homestead.  Its  fields,  leaning  against  a ridge, 
all  face  the  morning  sun.  The  two  runs,  Wilderness 
and  Caton’s,  may  well  be  called  Warrior  Runs,  for 
at  their  cradles  and  along  their  voiceless  banks  more 
men  lost  their  lives,  and  more  blood  mingled  with 
the  leaves  that  fall  around  them,  than  along  any 
two  runs  in  our  country,  I believe.  Caton’s  is  much 
the  smaller  and  heads  among  the  swales,  in  the  angle 
between  the  Germanna  Road  and  the  Pike.  It  loiters 
down  through  the  woods  with  many  feathery  branches 
till  it  meets  the  Germanna  Ford  road,  and  then  runs 
alongside  of  it  to  within  a few  rods  of  the  Pike,  when 
it  strikes  across  and  falls  into  Wilderness  Run;  some- 
time before  they  part,  the  road  and  the  cowslip- 
gilded  stream  are  in  a narrow  crease  between  two 
ridges.  Wilderness  Run  drains  all  the  trapezoid  be- 
tween the  Pike,  the  Plank  and  the  Brock  roads,  or, 
in  other  words,  the  battlefield.  After  leaving  its 
cradle,  around  which  so  much  youthful  blood  was 
shed,  it  flows  noiselessly  under  willows  and  alders, 
gleaming  in  the  sunlight  and  moonlight  past  the  Lacy 
house,  on  to  the  Rapidan. 

The  clearings  throughout  the  Wilderness,  save  the 
Lacy  farm  and  the  openings  about  Chancellorsville 
and  Parker’s  store  at  the  time  of  the  war  (and  it  is 
almost  as  true  now),  are  few  and  small.  Many  of 
them  are  deserted,  and  their  old  fields  preempted  by 
briars,  sassafras,  dwarf  young  pines  and  broom,  be- 


62  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


neath  whose  dun,  lifeless  tops  the  rabbits,  and  now 
and  then  a flock  of  quail,  make  their  winter  homes. 
There  are  several  of  these  little  clearings  in  the 
battlefield,  but  the  lines  so  ran  in  reference  to  them 
that  they  did  not  allow  the  artillery  of  either  army 
to  play  a part.  These  lonely  places  are  connected 
with  one  another  and  the  roads  by  paths  that  are 
very  dim  and  very  deceitful  to  a stranger.  Their  real 
destination  is  known  only  to  the  natives,  and  the 
lank  cattle  that  roam  the  woods,  getting  a blade  here 
and  a blade  there,  oftentimes  up  to  their  knees  in 
the  swales  and  swamps  for  a tuft.  The  lonely  kling- 
klang-klung  of  their  bells  on  a May  morning  is  pen- 
sively sweet  to  hear. 

This  whole  mystery-wrapped  country  is  a mineral 
region,  holding  pockets  of  iron  ore  and  streaked  with 
lean  insidious  veins  of  gold-bearing  quartz.  On  ac- 
count of  these  ores  Colonel  Spottswood,  for  whom 
the  County  of  Spotsylvania  is  named,  became  the 
owner  of  large  tracts  of  the  Wilderness.  He  uncov- 
ered the  ore-beds,  built  iron  furnaces,  and  converted 
the  primeval  forest  into  charcoal  to  feed  them.  Some 
of  the  pits,  and  many  of  the  wood  roads  from  them 
and  the  ore-beds  to  the  furnaces,  are  still  traceable. 
All  this  was  at  an  early  day,  as  far  back  as  the  reign 
of  King  George  II;  for  the  colonel  speaks  of  him  in 
his  deeds  as  his  Sovereign  Lord.  The  present  timber 
aspect  is  due  entirely  to  the  iron  furnaces  and  their 
complete  destruction  of  the  first  noble  growth. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  63 


My  mind  never  turns  to  those  long-since  cold  fur- 
naces that  a mantled  figure,  mysterious  but  very  real, 
does  not  arise  before  me,  and  which,  like  a portentous 
note,  now  and  again  keys  the  narrative.  Lo!  there 
it  is,  its  uplifted  hand  pointing  toward  a resurrected 
procession  of  dim  faces,  and  as  they  move  in  ghostly 
silence  I hear  it  saying : By  the  labor  of  slaves  chiefly 
those  iron  furnaces  were  reared;  it  was  they  who 
mined  the  ore,  cut  down  the  woods,  and  faithfully 
tended  the  lonely  smouldering  pits  (in  the  solemn 
hours  of  the  night,  alone  in  the  woods,  what  a vo- 
cation that  was  for  reflection  on  the  rights  and  wrongs 
in  life,  — some  of  the  pits  were  not  far  from  where 
Stonewall  Jackson  and  Longstreet  received  those 
fateful  volleys  from  their  own  men);  they  wdio  at 
last  tapped  the  stacks  of  their  molten,  red  metal, 
metal  that  sooner  or  later  found  its  way,  some  into 
the  holy  uses  of  bar-iron  and  utensils,  and  some,  alas ! 
into  cruel  manacles  clasping  possibly  the  wrists  of 
a Spottswood  slave  who  after  long  days  of  enforced 
and  unpaid  labor  had  more  than  once  in  the  dead 
hours  of  night  sat  before  the  pit,  his  cheek  resting 
in  his  broad  hand,  looking  with  gentle  eyes  plead- 
ingly into  the  face  of  his  hard  fate. 

Who  knows  what  happened  there,  what  heart- 
breaking, due  to  slavery  and  to  slavery  alone,  and 
which  the  Wilderness  was  wutness  to  or  moved  by 
mournings  of  far  distant  exiles!  Is  our  fellow  mor- 
tal robed  in  green  and  called  Nature  nearer  to  us  than 


64  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


we  realize?  And  was  there  a Spirit  of  the  Wilderness, 
that,  as  tears  gathered  in  eyes  of  fathers  and  mothers 
over  separation  from  children  and  home,  recorded  an 
oath  to  avenge  the  wrong?  Else  why  did  the  Wilder- 
ness strike  twice  at  the  Confederacy  in  its  moments 
of  victory?  Who  knows! 


Ill 


I am  free  to  confess  that  the  strategy,  grand  tactics, 
and  military  movements  of  the  Civil  War,  stirring 
as  they  were,  are  not  the  features  which  engage  my 
deepest  interest,  but  rather  the  spirit  which  ani- 
mated the  armies  of  North  and  South.  That,  that  is 
what  I see.  And  while  my  mind’s  eye  is  gazing  at 
it  with  emotion,  on  my  ear  fall  the  sounds  of  ring- 
ing trowels  in  the  hands  of  workmen  rearing  a new 
wing  to  the  old  battlemented  Palace  of  History,  an 
addition  not  to  house  the  tale  of  soldiers  engaged, 
soldiers  killed  and  wounded,  or  to  preserve  the  records 
of  the  charge  of  this  regiment  upon  that,  or  the 
slaughter  of  one  division  by  another.  No,  no,  not 
the  multitude  of  dead,  or  the  pictures  of  their  glaz- 
ing eyes  and  pleading,  bloodless  hands,  shall  engage 
the  pen  that  fills  the  records  of  that  new  wing.  We 
do  not  know  what  the  genius  of  history  will  treasure 
there,  yet  we  know  that  on  its  hearth  a fire  will  burn 
whose  flames  will  be  the  symbol  of  the  heroic  pur- 
pose and  spirit  that  beat  in  the  hearts  of  the  pale, 
handsome  youths  who  strewed  our  fields.  And  where 
the  beams  from  those  flames  strike  against  the  walls, 
new  ideals  will  appear,  and  up  in  the  twilight  of 
the  arches  will  be  faintly  heard  an  anthem,  an  an- 
them of  joy  that  new  levels  have  been  reached  by 


66  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


mankind  in  gentleness  and  in  love  of  what  is  pure 
and  merciful.  Wars  that  will  not  add  material  for 
this  extension  of  the  old  Palace  ought  never  to  be 
fought. 

So  then,  before  the  movements  begin  and  our 
blood  mounts,  let  us  in  peaceful,  thoughtful  mood 
take  a view  of  our  enemies,  not  of  their  numbers  or 
position,  but  fix  our  attention  rather  on  Lee’s  char- 
acter and  the  spirit  of  his  army,  two  ethereal  but 
immortal  elements.  True,  what  we  are  gazing  upon 
is  not  so  clearly  defined  as  the  Army  of  Northern 
Virginia  in  camp  on  the  banks  of  the  Rapidan,  but 
the  everlasting  things  that  appeal  to  us  are  never 
quite  distinct;  and  yet  how  real  they  are  and  how 
they  long  for  expression  in  Art,  Worship,  Charity, 
Honor,  and  high  chivalric  deeds. 

But  be  all  this  as  it  may,  what  was  it  that  so  ani- 
mated Lee’s  army  that,  although  only  about  one-half 
as  strong  in  numbers  as  we  were,  they  came  near 
overthrowing  us  in  the  Wilderness,  and  held  their 
lines  at  Spotsylvania,  although  we  broke  them  sev- 
eral times?  In  all  seriousness,  what  sustained  their 
fortitude  as  they  battled  on,  month  after  month, 
through  that  summer,  showing  the  same  courage  day 
after  day,  till  the  times  and  seasons  of  the  Confeder- 
acy were  fulfilled? 

Well,  to  answer  this,  I know  no  better  way  than 
to  propose  a visit  to  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia, 
say  on  the  night  of  January  18,  1864.  But  before 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  67 


setting  off  on  our  quest,  let  us  recall  that,  through 
either  exhaustion,  mismanagement,  or  unavoidable 
necessity,  supplies  for  man  and  beast  were,  and  had 
been,  so  meagre  that  there  was  actual  suffering,  and 
not  forget  that  it  was  an  unusually  severe  winter. 
The  snow  from  time  to  time  was  four  and  six  inches 
deep,  and  again  and  again  it  was  bitter  cold.  We  do 
not  know  what  the  weather  was  on  that  particular 
night  of  January  18,  but  in  the  light  of  the  following 
letter  to  the  Quartermaster-General  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, does  it  seem  unfair  to  assume  that  snow  cov- 
ered the  ground,  and  that  the  wind  was  blowing 
fiercely?  Or  does  it  seem  unfair  to  fancy  that  Lee, 
on  hearing  it  howl  through  the  cedars  and  pines  near 
his  headquarters,  thought  of  his  poorly  clad,  half-fed 
pickets  shuddering  at  their  lonely  posts  along  the 
Rapidan,  and  took  his  pen  and  wrote  to  the  Confed- 
erate Quartermaster-General? 

Headquabters  Army  of  Northern  Virginia,  Jay  18th,  1864. 

General:  — The  want  of  shoes  and  blankets  in 
this  army  continues  to  cause  much  suffering  and  to 
impair  its  efficiency.  In  one  regiment  I am  informed 
that  there  are  only  fifty  men  with  serviceable  shoes, 
and  a brigade  that  recently  went  on  picket  was  com- 
pelled to  leave  several  hundred  men  in  camp  who  were 
unable  to  bear  the  exposure  of  duty,  being  destitute 
of  shoes  and  blankets. 

Lee’s  correspondence  seems  to  show  that  this  state 


68  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


of  affairs  continued,  and  that  repeated  pleas  were 
made  both  for  food  and  for  clothing.  Whatsoever 
may  have  been  the  response  to  them  throughout  the 
winter,  those  who  saw  the  contents  of  the  haversacks 
taken  from  the  dead  or  wounded  in  the  Wilderness 
will  remember  that  they  contained  only  a few  pieces 
of  corn-bread  and  slices  of  inferior  bacon  or  salt  pork. 
Well,  in  this  want  do  you  find  any  explanation  of 
Southern  fortitude?  No,  but  it  helps  us  to  appreciate 
it  truly. 

With  this  prelude,  let  us  go  on  with  our  visit. 
And  as  we  breast  the  fierce  wind,  and  tramp  on 
through  the  snow  from  camp  to  camp,  what  is  it  that 
we  hear  from  those  houses  built  of  logs  or  slabs?  Lo, 
men  are  preaching  and  praying  earnestly;  for  during 
those  bleak  winter  nights,  so  have  the  chaplains 
recorded,  a great  revival  was  going  on;  in  every 
brigade  of  the  sixty  odd  thousand  men,  the  veterans 
of  Gaines’s  Mill,  Fredericksburg,  and  Gettysburg 
were  on  their  knees  asking  God  to  forgive  their  sins, 
to  bless  their  far-away  homes  and  beloved  Southland. 
One  of  the  officers  of  a battery  tells  us  in  its  history 
that  right  after  retreat  they  always  met  for  prayer 
and  song,  and  that  when  the  order  came  to  march 
for  the  Wilderness,  while  the  teams  stood  ready  to 
move,  they  held  the  battery  long  enough  to  observe 
their  custom  of  worship. 

In  those  sacred  hours  when  the  soldiers  of  North- 
ern Virginia  were  supplicating  their  Creator  through 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  69 


his  Son  to  forgive  them  all  their  sins,  and  imploring 
his  hand  to  guide  them  on  in  the  paths  of  righteous- 
ness, I think  we  find  at  least  profoundly  suggestive 
material  for  the  answer  to  the  question:  Whence 
came  the  spirit  that  animated  and  sustained  their 
fortitude  through  those  eleven  months  of  battle? 
The  sense  of  peace  with  God  is  as  much  a reality  as 
the  phenomenon  of  dawn  or  the  Northern  Lights. 
Moreover,  hear  what  Carlyle  says  about  an  idea: 
“Every  society,  every  polity,  has  a spiritual  prin- 
ciple, the  embodiment  of  an  idea.  This  idea,  be  it 
devotion  to  a man  or  class  of  men,  to  a creed,  to  an 
institution,  or  even,  as  in  more  ancient  times,  to  a 
piece  of  land,  is  ever  a true  loyalty;  has  in  it  some- 
thing of  a religious,  paramount,  quite  infinite  char- 
acter; it  is  properly  the  soul  of  the  state,  its  life; 
mysterious  as  other  forms  of  life,  and,  like  those, 
working  secretly,  and  in  a depth  beyond  that  of 
consciousness.” 

Do  not  the  losses  and  sufferings  of  the  Southern 
armies  and  people  tell  us  that  there  was  an  idea,  some- 
thing of  a religious,  paramount,  quite  infinite  char- 
acter, possessing  the  South?  If  they  do  not,  go  stand 
among  the  graves  in  the  Confederate  cemetery  at 
Spotsylvania,  and  you  certainly  will  hear  from  the 
tufted  grass  that  a principle  was  embodied  in  an  idea. 
I In  seeking  for  the  answer  to  our  question  there  is 
one  thing  more  to  be  mentioned,  — the  strength  that 
came  to  the  Army  of  Northern  Virginia  through  the 


70  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


personality  and  character  of  Lee;  a strength  so 
spiritual  and  vital  that,  although  he  and  most  of  his 
army  are  in  their  graves,  it  still  lives,  preserving  and 
consecrating  the  memories  of  the  Confederacy.  I 
sincerely  believe  that  with  him  out  of  the  Rebellion, 
so-called,  its  star  that  hangs  detached  but  glowing 
softly  over  those  bygone  days  would  long  since  have 
set. 

Two  forces  contributed  to  his  ascendency,  one 
fortuitous,  of  the  earth  earthy,  the  other  fundamental 
and  celestial,  that  of  ideals.  By  birth  he  belonged 
to  one  of  Virginia’s  noted  families  and  by  marriage 
he  was  connected  with  Washington,  Mrs.  Lee  being 
the  granddaughter  of  Mrs.  Washington.  Thus  he 
had  the  advantage  of  the  regard  which  prevailed 
throughout  the  South  for  distinguished  ancestry 
supported  by  wealth,  character,  and  attainments. 

Furthermore,  nature  in  one  of  her  radiant  moods 
had  made  him  the  balanced  sum  in  manners  and  looks 
of  that  tradition  of  the  well-bred  and  aristocratic 
gentleman  transmitted  and  engrafted  at  an  early 
age  through  the  Cavaliers  into  Virginia  life.  More- 
over, she  had  been  generous  with  her  intellectual 
gifts,  bestowing  abilities  upon  him  of  the  very  high- 
est order. 

But  for  his  military  prowess  he  had  something 
vastly  more  efficacious  than  ancestry  or  filling  the 
mould  of  persistent  traditions.  He  had  the  generative 
quality  of  simple,  effective  greatness;  whereby  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  71 


serenely  lofty  character  and  dauntless  courage  were 
reactive,  reaching  every  private  soldier,  and  making 
him  unconsciously  braver  and  better  as  a man.  So 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  the  South’s  ideal  of  the  soldier, 
the  Christian,  and  the  gentleman  unfolded,  and  was 
realized  in  him  as  the  war  went  on.  His  army  was 
made  up  chiefly  of  men  of  low  estate,  but  the  truth 
is  that  it  takes  the  poor  to  see  ideals. 

Taking  into  account,  then,  these  mysterious  yet 
real  forces,  religion,  martial  skill,  and  exalted  char- 
acter, we  have  all  the  elements,  I think,  for  a com- 
plete answer  to  the  question  we  have  raised.  But 
now,  let  the  following  extracts  from  Lee’s  letters 
leave  their  due  impression  of  what  kind  of  a man  he 
was  at  heart;  for  it  is  by  these  inner  depths  of  our 
nature  that  we  stand  or  fall,  whether  we  were  born, 
as  he  was,  in  the  same  room  of  the  palatial  mansion 
of  Stratford  where  two  signers  of  the  Declaration  of 
Independence  were  born,  or  as  Lincoln,  in  a log  cabin 
in  Kentucky.  The  first  was  written  to  his  son  Custis 
on  the  11th  of  January,  1863,  just  about  a year  be- 
fore our  fancied  visit  to  his  camp : — 


Camp,  11th  January,  1863. 

I hope  we  will  be  able  to  do  something  for  the 
servants.  I executed  a deed  of  manumission,  em- 
bracing all  the  names  sent  me  by  your  mother,  and 
some  that  I recollected,  but  as  I had  nothing  to  refer 
to  but  my  memory  I fear  many  are  omitted.  It  was 


72  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


my  desire  to  manumit  all  the  people  of  your  grand- 
father, whether  present  on  the  several  estates  or  not. 

Later,  he  sent  the  following : — 

I have  written  to  him  [a  Mr.  Crockford]  to  request 
that  Harrison  [one  of  the  slaves]  be  sent  to  Mr. 
Eacho.  Will  you  have  his  free  papers  given  him?  I 
see  that  the  Va.  Central  R.  R.  is  offering  $40  a month 
and  board.  I would  recommend  he  engage  with 
them,  or  on  some  other  work  at  once.  ...  As  re- 
gards Leanthe  and  Jim,  I presume  they  had  better 
remain  with  Mrs.  D.  this  year,  and  at  the  end  of  it 
devote  their  earnings  to  their  own  benefit.  But  what 
can  be  done  with  poor  little  Jim?  It  would  be  cruel 
to  turn  him  out  on  the  world.  He  could  not  take  care 
of  himself.  He  had  better  be  bound  out  to  some  one 
until  he  can  be  got  to  his  grandfather’s.  His  father  is 

unknown,  and  his  mother  dead  or  in  unknown  parts. 

1 

In  a letter  to  his  son,  W.  H.  F.  Lee,  who  had  just 
been  released  from  captivity,  and  whose  wife  Char- 
lotte had  died : — 

God  knows  how  I loved  your  dear,  dear  wife,  how 
sweet  her  memory  is  to  me.  My  grief  could  not  be 
greater  if  you  had  been  taken  from  me;  and  how  I 
mourn  her  loss!  You  were  both  equally  dear  to  me. 
My  heart  is  too  full  to  speak  on  this  subject,  nor  can 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  73 


I write.  But  my  grief  is  for  ourselves.  She  is  brighter 
and  happier  than  ever, — safe  from  all  evil  and  await- 
ing us  in  her  heavenly  abode.  May  God  in  His  mercy 
enable  us  to  join  her  in  eternal  praise  to  our  Lord  and 
Saviour.  Let  us  humbly  bow  ourselves  before  Him, 
and  offer  perpetual  prayer  for  pardon  and  forgive- 
ness. But  we  cannot  indulge  in  grief,  however  mourn- 
fully pleasing.  Our  country  demands  all  of  our 
strength,  all  our  energies.  ...  If  victorious,  we 
have  everything  to  hope  for  in  the  future.  If  de- 
feated, nothing  will  be  left  us  to  live  for.  This  week 
will  in  all  probability  bring  us  work,  and  we  must 
strike  fast  and  strong.  My  whole  trust  is  in  God,  and 
I am  ready  for  whatever  He  may  ordain.  May  He 
guide,  guard,  and  strengthen  us  is  my  constant  prayer. 

Your  devoted  father, 

R.  E.  Lee. 

In  the  foregoing  reference  to  Lee,  and  to  the  spirit 
of  his  army,  I trust  there  is  some  food  for  reflection, 
and  somewhat  that  is  informing.  For  I cannot  make 
myself  believe  that  a true  history  of  the  war  can  be 
written,  fair  to  the  South  and  fair  to  the  North,  that 
does  not  try  at  least  to  make  these  spiritual  forces 
real.  Surely  due  measure  cannot  be  given  to  the  gal- 
lantry of  the  soldiers  of  the  North,  who  won  victory 
for  their  country  at  last,  if  we  do  not  realize  what 
they  had  to  overcome  in  the  almost  matchless  cour- 
age of  their  adversaries. 


74  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


But  let  no  one  be  deceived,  — Lee’s  soldiers  were 
not  all  saints,  nor  were  ours.  In  his,  as  in  all  armies, 
there  were  wretches  guilty  of  most  brutal  conduct,  — 
wretches  who  habitually  rifled  the  dead  and  wounded, 
— sometimes  under  desultory  firing,  as  when  our 
lines  after  assaults  were  close,  — crouching  and 
sneaking  in  the  darkness,  from  one  dead  body  to 
another,  thrusting  their  ogreish  hands  quickly  and 
ruthlessly  into  pockets,  fumbling  unbeating  breasts 
for  money  and  watches,  and  their  prowling  fingers 
groping  their  way  expectantly  along  the  pale,  dead 
ones  for  rings.  Thank  God!  the  great  mass  of  the 
armies,  North  and  South,  respected  the  dead,  and 
turned  with  aversion  from  those  ghoulish  monsters, 
the  barbarous  and  shameful  outcome  of  bitter  and 
prolonged  war.  But  there  are  vermin  that  breed  in 
the  darkness  of  the  cellar  walls  of  cathedrals  and 
lonely  country  churches;  and  yet  a holy  spirit  breathes 
around  their  consecrated  altars,  and  in  the  voices 
of  the  bells  and  the  tops  of  the  spires  catch  the 
first  gleam  of  dawn.  So,  so  it  is,  and  so,  so  it  was  with 
both  armies  that  went  into  the  Wilderness. 


IV 


Everything  being  ready.  Grant,  on  Monday,  May  2, 
directed  Meade  to  put  the  army  in  motion  at  mid- 
night of  the  following  day  for  the  lower  fords  of  the 
Rapidan.  Grant  at  the  same  time  notified  Burnside, 
then  along  the  railroad  north  of  the  Rappahannock, 
to  be  ready  on  the  4th  to  start  at  a moment’s  notice 
for  Germanna  Ford.  The  orders  to  carry  this  into 
effect  were  written  by  Humphreys,  Meade’s  Chief  of 
Staff,  and  were  sent  to  the  corps  commanders  the 
same  day,  who  at  once,  in  compliance  with  them, 
placed  guards  around  all  the  occupied  houses  on  or 
in  the  vicinity  of  their  line  of  march,  to  prevent  in- 
formation being  carried  to  the  enemy  that  the  army 
was  moving. 

Early  on  Tuesday  morning  the  depots  at  Brandy 
began  to  ship  back  to  Washington.  It  was  a very 
busy  day  for  me  and  for  every  one  else  in  charge  of 
stores.  Trains  were  backing  in  to  be  loaded  with 
surplus  stores;  fresh  troops,  infantry  and  cavalry, 
were  arriving  and  had  to  be  supplied  at  once,  whole 
regiments  in  some  cases,  with  arms  and  equipments. 
Teams  stood,  waiting,  the  drivers  clamorous  for  their 
turn  to  load  with  ammunition  or  delayed  supplies; 
others  under  the  crack  of  their  drivers’  whips,  quickly 
taking  their  chance  to  unload  condemned  stores,  and 


76  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


all  more  or  less  impatient  because  they  could  not  be 
served  immediately,  so  as  to  get  back  to  their  com- 
mands who  were  preparing  to  move. 

If,  in  the  midst  of  the  hurly-burly,  you  had  gone 
out  where  the  condemned  stores  were  received,  I 
believe  that  you  would  have  seen  and  heard  much  to 
amuse  you.  These  stores  were  usually  sent  in  charge 
of  a corporal  or  sergeant,  and  were  tallied  by  a 
couple  of  my  men.  One  of  them,  Corporal  Tessing, 
it  would  have  delighted  you  to  see,  he  was  such  a 
typical,  grim  old  regular.  His  drooping  moustache 
and  imperial  were  a rusty  sandy,  streaked  with  gray, 
his  cheeks  furrowed,  his  bearing  and  look  like  a 
frowning  statue.  The  other,  Harris,  his  senior,  was 
a mild,  quiet,  open-eyed,  soft-voiced  man,  with 
modesty  and  uprightness  camped  in  his  face.  Well, 
if  the  stores  came  from  a regiment  of  cavalry,  the 
corporal  in  charge,  booted  and  spurred,  — and  such 
an  air!  — would  pick  up  a few  straps,  some  of  them 
not  longer  than  a throat-latch,  and  possibly  having 
attached  to  one  or  two  of  them  an  old  nose-bag, 
would  announce  brazenly  to  Tessing  or  Harris  who 
would  be  tallying,  “two  bridles,  three  halters,  and 
four  nose-bags.”  If  an  infantryman,  he  would  throw 
quickly  into  a pile  an  old  wrinkled  cartridge-box,  a 
belt  or  two,  and  a bayonet-scabbard,  and  sing  out, 
“five  sets  of  infantry  equipments  complete.”  If  an 
artilleryman,  he  might  point  with  dignity  to  a couple 
of  pieces  of  carefully  folded,  dirt-stained,  scarlet 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  77 


blankets,  and  in  a voice  of  commercial  deference 
observe,  “three  horse-blankets.” 

And  so  it  was  with  everything  their  commanding 
officers  were  responsible  for:  they  tried  to  get  receipts 
for  what  was  worn  out,  what  had  been  lost,  and  now 
and  then  for  what  they  had  traded  off  to  a farmer  or 
sutler.  If  you  could  have  seen  Tessing’s  face  as  he 
turned  it  on  some  of  those  volunteer  corporals  when 
they  tried  to  beat  him!  He  rarely  said  anything  to 
the  young  rascals;  now  and  then,  however,  he  ad- 
dressed the  very  unscrupulous  in  tones,  terms,  and 
looks  that  could  have  left  but  little  doubt  as  to  what 
he  thought  of  them.  They  never  disputed  his  count, 
but  pocketed  their  receipts,  and  off  they  went  as 
light-hearted  as  birds.  He  and  the  old  sergeant  lost 
their  lives  at  the  explosion  of  the  depot  at  City 
Point:  the  former  was  literally  blown  to  atoms;  how 
and  where  I found  the  sergeant  is  told  in  “The  Spirit 
of  Old  West  Point.”  Heaven  bless  their  memories, 
and  when  I reach  the  other  shore  no  two  hands 
shall  I take  with  warmer  grasp  than  the  hands  of 
these  two  old  soldiers;  and,  reader,  I believe  they 
will  be  glad  to  take  mine,  too. 

Count  the  stores  as  carefully  as  they  might,  there 
was  sure  to  be  a generous  allowance,  so  that  by  the 
time  we  reached  City  Point  I was  responsible  for  a 
vast  amount  of  stuff  that  was  n’t  there.  But  let  me 
confide  that,  when  the  depot  exploded,  all  those 
absent  stores  had  in  some  mysterious  way  gotten 


78  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


to  the  James;  and  I am  free  to  say  that  I loaded  them, 
and  everything  under  the  heavens  that  I was  charged 
with  and  short  of,  on  that  boat  or  into  the  depot- 
buildings,  and  thereby  balanced  the  books  to  the 
complete  satisfaction  of  everybody,  and  I believe 
with  the  approval  of  Honor  and  Justice. 

At  last  all.  was  done  at  Brandy,  and  a little  be- 
fore midnight  the  train  with  my  ordnance  supplies 
on  board  was  under  way  for  Alexandria;  its  engine, 
old  Samson,  laboring  heavily.  I waved  good-bye  to 
my  faithful  Regulars  and  tired  colored  laborers,  and 
turned  in. 

That  night  all  the  camp-pickets  were  called  in, 
rations  and  ammunition  issued,  and  perfect  silence 
maintained  after  taps  sounded. 

During  the  afternoon  of  Tuesday,  the  Second 
Division  of  cavalry  under  Gregg,  then  at  Paoli  Mills, 
moved  southeastward  to  the  road  already  described 
connecting  Stevensburg  and  Fredericksburg.  He 
struck  it  at  Madden’s,  and  followed  it  eastward  till  he 
came  to  Richardsville,  a hamlet  about  two  and  a half 
miles  from  Ely’s  Ford.  There  he  went  into  bivouac, 
with  orders  from  Sheridan  to  keep  his  command  out  of 
sight  as  much  as  possible.  About  ten  o’clock  p.  m.  a 
canvas  pontoon  train  that  had  been  brought  up  from 
the  Rappahannock  drew  into  his  sleeping-camp, 
rested  till  midnight,  and  then,  preceded  by  an  ad- 
vanced guard,  set  out  for  the  river.  When  daylight 
broke  they  were  at  the  ford,  and  Gregg,  after  laying 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  79 


the  bridge,  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  long,  moved 
on  up  with  his  cavalry  to  Chancellorsville. 

Meanwhile  Hancock  at  midnight  awakened  his 
great  Second  Corps,  and  at  two  a.  m.  set  off  with  it 
from  Lone  Tree  Hill,  to  follow  Gregg.  His  troops  kept 
in  the  woods  and  fields  till  they  came  to  Madden’s, 
so  as  to  leave  the  road  free  from  Stevensburg  to  that 
point  for  Warren.  The  Madden’s  referred  to  is  an  old 
farmhouse  on  a gentle  knoll,  with  some  corn-cribs, 
log-stables,  and  huddled  fruit  trees  where  chickens 
and  turkeys  roost,  all  overlooking  a flat  field  to  the 
west  that  is  dotted  with  blackened  stumps  of  pri- 
meval oaks.  It  is  about  a third  of  the  stretch  from 
Stevensburg  to  the  river. 

Dawn  had  broken,  and  the  morning  star  was 
paling,  when  the  head  of  the  Second  Corps  reached 
the  bluffy  bank  of  the  Rapidan  at  Ely’s  Ford.  There 
it  halted  for  a moment  while  the  wooden  pontoon 
bridge  that  accompanied  it  was  laid.  The  river 
spanned,  the  corps  filed  down  and  began  to  cross 
into  the  Wilderness.  Hour  after  hour  this  bridge 
pulsed  with  the  tread  of  Hancock’s  twenty-seven 
thousand  men,  veterans  of  many  fields.  The  swell- 
ing bluffs  offer  more  than  one  point  where  in  fancy 
the  reader  might  sit  alone  and  overlook  the  moving 
scene.  I wish  for  his  sake  that  with  one  stroke  of 
this  pen,  as  with  a magic  wand,  I might  make  it  real. 

The  river  flowing  on  in  sweet  peace,  glimmering 
with  the  morning  sun;  accumulating  masses  of  in- 


80  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


fantry  waiting  for  their  turn  to  join  the  never- 
ending  column  in  blue  blossomed  by  the  colors, 
colors  that  had  flashed  their  crimson  on  many  a 
field;  the  bridge  rumbling  under  the  heavy  wheels  of 
the  batteries;  guns,  men,  and  colors  crossing  over  the 
river  to  win  glory  at  last  for  their  country.  Yes, 
there  go  the  men  and  the  guns  against  whom  Pickett 
made  his  mighty  charge  and  who  hurled  him  back 
into  immortality.  There  go  the  men  and  guns  who 
within  ten  days  will  carry  the  Bloody  Angle  at  Spot- 
sylvania. Oh,  gallant  Second  Corps,  led  on  by  Webb, 
Birney,  and  Smyth;  Hays,  Brooke,  and  Carroll;  Miles, 
Barlow,  and  Gibbon,  my  heart  beats  as  I recall  your 
deeds  of  valor!  Having  crossed,  they  took  the  sadly 
quiet  country  road  which  makes  its  way  through 
thickety  sombre  pines  and  surly  oaks  and  by  ragged 
forlorn  openings,  to  their  old  battlefield  of  Chan- 
cellorsville,  where  so  many  of  their  comrades  were 
sleeping  their  last  long,  long  sleep. 

Hancock  with  his  staff  reached  Chancellorsville  by 
nine-thirty,  his  last  division  about  three  p.  m.  Some 
of  his  troops  had  marched  over  twenty-three  miles, 
which,  inasmuch  as  they  carried  three  days’  rations, 
their  muskets,  and  fifty  rounds  of  ammunition,  — 
under  a hot  sun  and  with  not  a leaf  stirring,  — was 
a hard  tramp.  On  Hancock’s  arrival,  Gregg  moved 
on  several  miles  to  the  south,  along  the  old  Furnace 
road  which  just  about  a year  before  Stonewall  Jack- 
son  had  taken  to  reach  the  Brock  road  and  from  there 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  81 


to  strike  the  right  of  Hooker’s  army,  posted  over  the 
identical  field  where  Hancock’s  corps  had  now  gone 
into  bivouac.  A reference  to  this  last,  fateful  move 
of  Jackson  will  be  made  when  we  come  to  place  the 
army  before  the  reader’s  eye  as  night  fell  that  first 
day,  and  after  all  had  reached  their  allotted  camps. 
Gregg  picketed  heavily  on  the  roads  coming  from  the 
direction  of  Hamilton’s  Crossing  where  Sheridan 
under  misinformation  had  located  the  bulk  of  the 
Confederate  cavalry. 

And  now,  leaving  Hancock  at  Chancellorsville, 
let  us  turn  to  Wilson  and  Warren;  the  former  com- 
manded Sheridan’s  Third  Cavalry  Division.  At  dark 
on  Tuesday,  his  pontoon  train  took  the  road  for 
Germanna  Ford.  When  it  got  within  quick  reaching 
distance,  a half-mile  or  so,  of  the  river,  it  halted  in 
the  thick  woods.  It  was  then  ten  o’clock,  a moonless 
but  beautiful  starlit  night.  At  three  o’clock  the  Third 
Indiana  Cavalry,  under  Chapman,  cautiously  drew 
near  the  ford,  waited  till  dawn  appeared  among  the 
trees,  then  hurried  down,  forded  the  river,  and  brushed 
away  the  startled  Confederate  pickets  of  the  First 
North  Carolina  Cavalry  who  had  their  reserve  in  the 
old,  briery  field  overlooking  the  ford. 

Meanwhile,  the  bridge  material  was  brought  for- 
ward, and  Wilson  was  on  hand  with  the  rest  of  his 
division,  which  included  Pennington’s  and  Fitzhugh’s 
batteries  of  light  artillery.  By  half-past  five  — the 
sun  rose  at  4.49  — two  bridges,  each  two  hundred 


82  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


and  twenty  feet  long,  were  thrown,  the  three  thou- 
sand horsemen  meanwhile  fording  the  river,  and  by 
six  o’clock  all  the  trains  and  batteries  of  the  cavalry 
division  had  crossed,  and  the  head  of  Warren’s  Corps, 
which  had  marched  from  the  vicinity  of  Culpeper  at 
midnight,  was  drawing  near.  The  infantry  in  sight, 
Wilson  pushed  on,  up  toward  the  Lacy  farm,  and  the 
Fifth  Corps,  Ayres  with  his  Regulars  in  the  lead,  be- 
gan to  cross.  The  troops,  once  they  gained  the  bluff, 
threw  themselves  down  and  rested  by  the  roadside 
while  they  ate  their  breakfast,  and  then  followed 
Wilson  up  the  narrow  and  deeply  over-shadowed 
road. 

The  Sixth  Corps  began  its  march  at  four  o’clock 
from  beyond  Brandy  for  Stevensburg.  There  it  fell 
in  behind  Warren,  and  followed  him  to  Germanna 
Ford.  Sheridan  left  the  first  division  of  his  cavalry, 
under  Torbert,  to  mask  the  upper  fords  of  the  Rapi- 
dan  and  to  look  out  for  the  rear  of  the  army  as  it 
moved  away  from  its  winter-quarters.  Later  he  with 
his  staff  threaded  the  infantry,  and  after  crossing  the 
river  at  Germanna  established  his  headquarters  on 
Wilderness  Run,  about  midway  between  the  ford  and 
Chancellorsville. 

Several  hours  before  Warren  and  Hancock  began 
their  march  the  enormous  supply-train,  in  bands  of 
from  twenty  to  two  hundred  wagons,  headed  east- 
ward on  lanes  and  roads  for  Richardsville.  They 
were  rumbling  by  my  tent  at  Brandy  all  through  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  83 


night.  Grant’s,  Meade’s,  and  the  different  corps  head- 
quarters-trains, and  half  of  the  ammunition  and  am- 
bulance trains  moved  with  the  troops. 

The  sun  had  just  cleared  the  tree-tops  when  Meade 
with  his  staff  came  by,  and  I mounted  my  horse, 
saddled  and  groomed  by  my  colored  boy  Stephens, 
and  joined  them.  The  whole  army  was  now  in  mo- 
tion, and  I cannot  convey  the  beauty  and  joy  of 
the  morning.  The  glad  May  air  was  full  of  spring. 
Dogwoods  with  their  open,  enwrapped  blossoms, 
that  have  always  seemed  to  me  as  though  they 
were  hearing  music  somewhere  above  them  in  the 
spring  skies,  violets  and  azaleas,  heavenly  pale  little 
houstonias,  and  the  richly  yellow  primroses,  which 
here  and  there  beautify  the  pastures  and  roadsides 
of  this  part  of  old  Virginia,  were  all  in  bloom,  and 
the  dew  still  on  them. 

Never,  I think,  did  an  army  set  off  on  a campaign 
when  the  fields  and  the  bending  morning  sky  wore 
fresher  or  happier  looks.  Our  horses  felt  it  all,  too, 
and,  champing  their  bits,  flecking  their  breasts  at 
times  with  spattering  foam,  bore  us  proudly.  When 
we  gained  the  ridge  just  beyond  Stevensburg,  which 
commands  a wide  landscape,  an  inspiring  sight  broke 
on  our  eyes.  To  be  sure,  we  had  been  riding  by  troops 
all  the  way  from  Brandy,  but  now,  as  far  as  you  could 
see  in  every  direction,  corps,  divisions,  and  brigades, 
trains,  batteries,  and  squadrons,  were  moving  on  in 
a waving  sea  of  blue;  headquarters  and  regimental 


84  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


flags  were  fluttering,  the  morning  sun  kissing  them 
all,  and  shimmering  gayly  from  gun-barrels  and  on 
the  loud-speaking  brass  guns,  so  loved  by  the  can- 
noneers who  marched  by  their  sides.  Every  once  in 
a while  a cheer  would  break,  and  on  would  come 
floating  the  notes  of  a band.  As  I recall  the  scene  of 
that  old  army  in  motion  that  morning,  its  brigade, 
division,  and  corps,  flags,  some  blue,  some  white, 
and  some  with  red  fields,  whipping  over  them,  with 
its  background  of  Pony  and  Clarke’s  Mountain,  and 
away  in  the  west  the  Blue  Ridge  looming  with  her 
remote  charm,  a solemn  spell  comes  over  my  heart, 
and  it  seems  as  if,  while  I look  back  through  the 
Past  at  the  magical  pageant,  I hear  above  me  the 
notes  of  slowly  passing  bells. 

The  troops  were  very  light-hearted,  almost  as 
joyous  as  schoolboys;  and  over  and  over  again  as  we 
rode  by  them,  it  was  observed  by  members  of  the 
staff  that  they  had  never  seen  them  so  happy  and 
buoyant.  The  drummer-boys,  those  little  rapscal- 
lions, whose  faces  were  the  habitual  playground  of 
mischief  and  impudence,  were  striding  along,  caps 
tilted,  and  calling  for  cheers  for  Grant,  or  jeering, 
just  as  the  mood  took  them;  but  there  was  illumina- 
tion in  every  soldier’s  face.  Was  it  the  light  from  the 
altar  of  duty  that  was  shining  there?  No  one  knows 
save  the  Keeper  of  the  key  of  our  higher  natures, 
who  some  day  will  open  the  doors  for  us  all. 

Soon  after  we  left  Stevensburg,  to  my  surprise, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  85 


General  Hunt,  by  whose  side  I was  riding,  suggested 
that  we  take  it  easy,  and  let  the  rest  of  the  staff  go 
ahead,  for  it  never  was  comfortable  to  keep  up  with 
that  fox- walk  of  Meade’s  horse;  so  we  fell  to  the  rear, 
and  I really  felt  proud  to  have  him  ask  me  to  ride 
with  him,  for  he  was  so  much  older,  and  held  such 
a high  place  at  headquarters  and  in  the  army  gen- 
erally. We  struck  across  the  country,  and  while 
watering  our  horses  at  a run  of  considerable  flow,  — 
it  rises  well  up  among  the  oak  timber  of  the  old  Willis 
plantation,  one  with  the  greatest  domain  of  any  along 
the  Rapidan,  — Hunt’s  eye  fell  on  the  violets  that 
strewed  its  banks,  and  he  insisted  that  we  dismount 
and  pick  some  of  them.  The  violets  here,  and  those 
in  the  Wilderness,  are  large  and  beautiful,  the  two 
upper  petals  velvety  and  almost  a chestnut  brown. 
As  we  lounged  in  the  refreshing  shade,  he  manifested 
so  much  unaffected  love  and  sentiment  for  the  wild 
flowers  and  the  quiet  of  the  spot,  — the  brook  was 
murmuring  on  to  the  Rapidan  near  by,  — that  the 
stern  old  soldier  whom  I had  known  was  translated 
into  an  attractive  and  really  new  acquaintance.  I 
do  not  remember  ever  to  have  seen  him  smile,  yet  I 
never  read  the  story  of  Pickett’s  charge,  or  recall 
him  at  the  Wilderness  or  Spotsylvania,  without 
having  that  half-hour’s  rest  on  the  banks  of  the  run 
come  back  to  me. 

The  road  we  were  on,  the  old  Stevensburg  plank, 
and  the  one  from  Madden’s  which  had  been  taken  by 


86  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


two  of  Warren’s  divisions,  meet  at  Germanna  Ford, 
both  roads  availing  of  short  narrow  ravines  to  get  to 
the  water’s  cheery  edge,  for  the  Rapidan  here  is  flow- 
ing right  fast.  Under  the  open  pines  on  the  bluff  we 
found  Warren,  Meade,  and  Grant,  with  their  head- 
quarters colors.  They  and  their  staffs,  spurred  and 
in  top  boots,  all  fine-looking  young  fellows,  were 
dismounted  and  standing  or  lounging  around  in 
groups.  Grant  was  a couple  of  hundred  yards  back 
from  the  ford,  and  except  Babcock,  Comstock,  and 
Porter,  he  and  all  of  his  staff  were  strangers  to  the 
officers  and  the  rank  and  file  of  the  army.  His  head- 
quarters flag  was  the  national  colors;  Meade’s,  a 
lilac-colored,  swallow-tailed  flag  having  in  the  field 
a wreath  inclosing  an  eagle  in  gold;  Warren’s  Fifth 
Corps,  a blue  swallow-tail,  with  a Maltese  cross  in 
a white  field. 

Down  each  of  the  roads,  to  the  bridges  that  were 
forty  or  fifty  feet  apart,  the  troops,  well  closed  up, 
were  pouring.  The  batteries,  ambulances,  and  am- 
munition trains  followed  their  respective  divisions. 
Of  course,  in  the  three  years  of  campaigning  many 
officers,  of  all  branches,  — and  I honestly  believe  I 
knew  every  captain  and  lieutenant  in  the  artillery 
with  the  army,  — had  become  acquaintances  and 
personal  friends  of  my  own  as  well  as  of  members 
of  the  various  staffs  assembled;  and  warm  greetings 
were  constantly  exchanged.  Hello,  Tom!  Hello, 
Bob!  Good-morning,  Sandy,  old  fellow,  and  how 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  87 


did  you  leave  your  sweetheart?  How  are  you, 
John,  and  you,  too,  Mack,  dear  old  boy!  And  on 
with  their  radiant  smiles  they  went. 

If  the  reader  could  take  his  place  by  my  side,  on 
the  bare  knoll  that  lifts  immediately  above  the  ford, 
and  we  could  bring  back  the  scene;  the  Rapidan 
swinging  boldly  around  a shouldering  point  of  dark- 
ened pines  to  our  right,  and  on  the  other  side  of  the 
river  the  Wilderness  reaching  back  in  mysterious 
silence;  below  us  the  blue  moving  column,  the  tat- 
tered colors  fluttering  over  it  in  the  hands  of  faithful- 
eyed,  open-browed  youths,  I believe  that  the  reader 
would  find  an  elevated  pleasure  as  his  eyes  fell  on 
the  martial  scene.  And  if  we  could  transport  our- 
selves to  the  banks  of  the  James,  and  should  see  the 
army  as  I saw  it  on  that  June  day,  heading  on  after 
it  had  fought  its  way  through  the  Wilderness  and 
Spotsylvania  and  by  Cold  Harbor,  leaving  behind 
those  young  faces  whose  light  now  gives  such  charm 
to  the  procession  all  hidden  in  the  grave,  I believe 
that  both  of  us  would  hear,  coming  down  from 
some  high  ridge  in  our  spiritual  nature,  the  notes  of 
a dirge,  and  our  hearts  with  muffled  beats  would 
be  keeping  step  as  the  column  moved  over  the 
James. 

But,  thank  God!  that  scene  of  June  is  not  before 
us  now.  No,  we  are  on  the  Rapidan,  it  is  a bright 
May  morning,  the  river  is  gurgling  around  the  reef 
of  black  projecting  boulders  at  our  feet,  and  youth’s 


88  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


confident  torches  are  lit  in  our  eyes,  and  here  comes 
the  small  band  of  Regulars.  That  solid-looking  man, 
with  an  untended  bushy  beard,  at  their  head,  is 
Ayres.  The  tall  slim  man  with  that  air  of  decision, 
stalking  walk,  drooping  moustache  and  sunken 
cheeks,  who  commands  the  division,  is  Griffin,  one 
of  my  old  West  Point  instructors.  At  Gettysburg, 
when  Longstreet’s  men  had  carried  the  Peach 
Orchard  and  broken  Sickles’s  line,  and  were  coming 
on  flushed  with  victory,  driving  everything  before 
them,  Griffin’s  Regulars,  then  under  Sykes  and  Ayres, 
were  called  on  and  went  in.  They  were  only  1985 
strong,  but  they  fought  their  way  back,  leaving  829 
killed  or  wounded.  Out  of  the  80  officers  in  one  of 
the  small  brigades,  40  were  among  the  killed  or 
wounded. 

Reader,  let  me  tell  you  that  I never  think  of  the 
Regulars  without  a feeling  of  pride  and  affection  for 
them  all.  For  the  first  real  soldier  I ever  saw,  the 
one  who  conducted  me  — on  reporting  at  West 
Point,  a light-haired,  spare,  and  rather  lonely  looking 
boy  — to  the  barracks  that  were  to  be  my  home 
for  four  years,  was  a Regular;  moreover,  all  of  my 
springtime  manhood  was  spent  as  an  officer  among 
them,  and  let  me  assure  you  that  if  in  the  other  world 
there  shall  be  a review  of  the  old  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac, I shall  certainly  fall  in  with  the  Regulars. 

And  here,  brigaded  with  them,  comes  a regiment, 
the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  New  York,  to  which. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  89 


for  the  sake  of  a boyhood’s  friend  who  fell  at  their 
head,  I wish  you  would  uncover.  It  is  Pat  O’Rorke’s, 
a cadet  and  sojourner  at  West  Point  with  me,  to 
whom  this  pen  has  referred  on  another  occasion. 
That  regiment  followed  him  up  the  east  slope  of 
Round  Top,  and  there  looking  out  over  the  field  is 
a monument  which  tells  with  pride  the  sacrifices  it 
made.  Ryan,  “Paddy”  Ryan,  — so  Warren  called 
him  when  some  one  of  the  staff  asked  him  who  that 
young  officer  was  that  had  just  tipped  his  cap  to 
him  smiling  as  he  rode  by,  — Ryan,  a graduate  of 
West  Point,  tawny-haired  and  soldierly,  is  leading 
it  now.  At  the  close  of  the  next  day,  the  first  of  the 
Wilderness,  of  the  529  of  the  One  Hundred  and 
Fortieth  who  went  into  action  up  the  turnpike,  cheer- 
ing, only  264  reported  with  the  colors.  The  rest  were 
in  the  hospital  wounded,  or  lying  dead  under  the 
stunted,  sullen  pines;  a few  were  on  their  way  to 
Southern  prisons. 

And  there,  just  coming  on  the  upper  bridge,  is 
another  regiment  in  the  same  division,  the  Twentieth 
Maine,  a worthy  companion  of  the  One  Hundred  and 
Fortieth  and  the  Regulars.  Its  record  at  Round  Top, 
where  it  was  on  the  left  of  O’Rorke,  under  Chamber- 
lain,  is  thrilling;  and  it  was  still  under  that  same 
scholar,  soldier,  and  gentleman,  a son  of  Bowdoin, 
at  Appomattox,  when  the  overthrown  Confederate 
army  came  marching  along,  under  Gordon,  with 
heavy  hearts,  to  stack  their  arms,  and  say  farewell 


90  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


to  their  dearly  loved  colors.  Chamberlain  ordered 
his  line  to  present  arms  to  their  brave  foes.  Gordon, 
who  was  at  their  head,  with  becoming  chivalry 
wheeled  his  horse,  and  acknowledged  duly  the  unex- 
pected and  touching  salute.  Yes,  the  guns  you  see 
them  bearing  now  were  brought  to  a present,  and 
those  old  battle-torn  colors  were  dipped.  It  was  a 
magnanimous  and  knightly  deed,  a fit  ending  for  the 
war,  lifting  the  hour  and  the  occasion  into  the  com- 
pany of  those  that  minstrels  have  sung.  I feel  glad 
and  proud  that  I served  with  an  army  which  had  men 
in  it  with  hearts  to  do  deeds  like  this.  The  total 
killed  and  wounded  of  this  regiment  in  the  war  was 
528. 

That  large  man,  fifty-four  years  old,  with  silvered 
hair  and  nobly  carved  features,  is  Wadsworth  who 
has  only  about  forty-eight  hours  to  live,  for  he  was 
killed  Friday  forenoon,  and  the  writer  has  every 
reason  to  believe  that  he  bore  the  last  order  Warren 
ever  gave  him.  But  before  I reached  him,  his  lines 
were  broken,  and  our  men  were  falling  back  in  great 
confusion,  and  he  was  lying  mortally  wounded  and 
unconscious  within  the  Confederate  lines.  His  bri- 
gade commanders  are  Cutler  and  Rice,  the  latter 
a Yale  man  who,  when  dying  a few  days  after  at 
Spotsylvania,  asked  to  be  turned  with  his  face  to 
the  enemy.  In  Wadsworth’s  division  is  the  Iron 
Brigade  of  the  West,  made  up  of  Seventh  and  Nine- 
teenth Indiana,  Twenty-Fourth  Michigan,  First 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TEE  WILDERNESS  91 


New  York,  Second,  Sixth,  and  Seventh  Wisconsin. 
They  too  were  at  Gettysburg,  — in  fact,  the  fate  of 
that  day  pivoted  on  their  bravery,  — and  proudly 
may  they  tread  those  bridges  to-day. 

Those  troops  just  ahead  of  the  battery  that  is  now 
coming  on  to  the  lower  bridge  are  the  rear  of  the 
Maryland  brigade.  Its  front  is  with  that  head- 
quarters flag  you  see  in  the  column  over  the  top  of 
wallows  and  trees  on  the  other  side  of  the  river.  It 
is  known  as  the  Iron  Brigade  of  Maryland,  and  is 
made  up  of  the  First,  Fourth,  Seventh,  and  Eighth 
Maryland. 

If  ever  you  should  visit  the  field  of  Spotsylvania, 
you  will  find  standing  in  the  Spindle  farm,  wdthin 
reach  of  the  evening  shadows  of  an  old  wood,  and 
amid  tufts  of  broom-grass,  a gray  rectangular  stone, 
and  on  one  of  its  faces  you  will  read  “Maryland 
Brigade,”  and  on  another  this  legend,  a copy  of  an 
order  given  by  Warren,  then  in  the  road  about  where 
Sedgwick  was  killed  the  following  morning:  “8th  May 
1864.  Never  mind  cannon,  never  mind  bullets,  press 
on  and  clear  this  road,”  — meaning  the  road  to 
Spotsylvania,  that  lies  but  a mile  and  a half  beyond. 
On  the  south  face  is,  “Nearest  approach  on  this 
front.” 

I saw  the  troops  with  my  own  eyes  as  they  tried 
gallantly  to  carry  out  Warren’s  order,  wondering 
at  every  step  they  took  how  much  longer  they  could 
stand  it  under  the  withering  cross-fire  of  artillery  and 


92  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


musketry ; and  the  whole  scene  came  back  to  me  viv- 
idly as  I stood  by  the  stone  the  other  June  day.  And 
I ’ll  confess  freely,  it  came  back  with  a sense  of  pen- 
siveness such  as  always  attends  a revisit  to  one  of  the 
old  fields.  I got  there  about  the  same  hour  as  that  of 
the  charge,  and  the  day  resembled  exactly  that  of  the 
battle,  one  brimming  with  glad  sunshine;  that  kind 
of  a May  morning  when  new-shorn  sheep  look  so 
white  in  the  fields,  the  brooks  ripple  so  brightly, 
and  joy  is  in  the  blooming  hawthorn. 

But  there,  by  the  stone,  all  was  very  still,  — silence 
was  at  its  highest  pitch.  Huge  white  clouds  with 
bulging  mountain-tops,  pinnacled  cliffs,  and  gray 
ravines  were  floating  lazily  in  the  forenoon  sky,  and 
across  the  doming  brow  of  one  of  them  whose  shadow 
was  dragging  slowly  down  the  timbered  valley  of  the 
Po,  a buzzard  far,  far  above  earth’s  common  sounds, 
was  soaring  half-careened  with  bladed  wing.  There 
were  no  men  or  herds  in  sight,  the  only  moving  thing 
was  an  unexpected  roaming  wind.  Suddenly  the 
leaves  in  the  near-by  woods  fluttered  a moment,  and 
then  the  broom-grass  around  waved  silently  as  the 
wandering  wind  breathed  away.  My  left  hand  was 
resting  on  the  stone,  and  a voice  came  from  it  saying, 
as  I was  about  to  go  to  other  parts  of  the  field,  — to 
where  brave,  sweet-hearted  Sedgwick  laid  down 
his  life  and  our  batteries  had  stood,  — “Stay,  stay 
a while ! I stand  for  the  men  you  saw  marching  across 
the  Rapidan,  who  after  facing  the  volleys  of  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  93 


Wilderness  were  called  upon  to  move  on  at  last  under 
the  severe  order,  ‘Never  mind  cannon,  never  mind 
bullets,  but  press  on  and  clear  this  road.’  Here  many 
of  them  fell.  Stay  a while,  I love  to  feel  the  warmth  of 
a hand  of  one  who,  as  a boy,  served  with  them.  Do  not 
go  just  yet,  for,  here  alone  throughout  the  long  days  in 
the  silence  of  the  dead  broom,  I am  sometimes  lonely.” 

And  so,  dear  reader,  I might  call  your  attention 
to  deeds  like  theirs  which  have  been  done  by  about 
every  one  of  the  veteran  regiments  that  cross  the 
river  this  morning,  but  something  tells  me  that  I 
ought  to  refrain,  and  proceed  with  the  narrative. 

As  soon  as  the  last  of  his  troops  were  across  — it 
was  well  on  toward  noon  — W’arren  mounted  his 
big,  heavy,  iron-gray  horse  and,  followed  by  his  staff, 
the  writer  among  them,  started  up  the  Germanna 
Ford  Road  for  the  Lacy  farm  and  the  opening  around 
the  Wilderness  Tavern.  Warren’s  adjutant-general 
was  Colonel  Fred  Locke;  his  chief  surgeon,  Dr. 
Milhau,  whose  assistant  was  my  friend.  Colonel 
Charles  K.  Winne  of  Albany,  New  York,  — and 
may  every  day  of  his  declining  years  be  sweet  to  him. 
Warren’s  chief  personal  aide,  and  one  of  the  very 
best  in  the  army,  was  Washington  Roebling,  the 
builder  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  and  a man  whose 
fame  is  wide.  Warren’s  brother  Robert,  a boy  of  my 
own  age,  was  also  an  aide.  I find,  by  referring  to  my 
book  of  dispatches,  that  I sent  my  camp  blankets  to 
him  at  Culpeper  the  night  before  we  moved.  Besides 


94  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


those  mentioned  there  were  eight  or  ten  other  officers 
connected  with  the  staff;  so  that,  when  we  were  under 
way  on  the  narrow  road,  followed  immediately  by 
headquarters  guards,  couriers,  and  servants,  we  made 
quite  a cavalcade  behind  the  general. 

After  all  these  years  there  are  only  three  distinct 
memories  left  of  the  march.  First,  its  seeming  great 
length,  — and  yet  it  was  only  about  four  and  a half 
miles.  But  the  eye  met  nothing  to  distract  it;  to  be 
sure  now  and  then  there  was  a field,  and  on  the  right- 
hand  side,  and  not  far  apart,  were  two  little  old 
houses.  When  passing  over  the  road  last  May,  the 
houses  were  gone,  a superannuated  cherry  tree  was 
trying  to  bloom,  and  a feeble  old  rheumatic  apple 
tree  had  one  of  its  pain-racked,  twisted  boughs 
decked  in  pink  and  white.  But  the  most  of  the  way 
the  road’s  course  is  through  stunted  oaks,  lean,  strug- 
gling bushes,  pines  with  moss  on  them,  obviously 
hopeless  of  ever  seeing  better  days,  the  whole  scene 
looking  at  you  with  unfathomable  eyes.  Second,  the 
road  was  strewn  with  overcoats  which  the  men  had 
thrown  away.  The  wonder  is  that  they  had  carried  the 
useless  burden  so  far,  for  the  day  was  very  warm,  with 
not  a breath  of  air;  moreover,  they  had  been  march- 
ing since  midnight,  and  were  getting  tired.  The  other 
memory  is  almost  too  trifling  to  record,  but,  as  it 
was  the  only  time  I burst  into  a hearty  laugh  in  all 
the  campaign,  I shall  be  loyal  to  it,  and  give  it  a 
place  alongside  of  the  stern  and  great  events. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  95 


About  half-way  to  the  Lacy  house  we  come  to  Flat 
Run,  which  steals  down  out  of  the  woods  and  heads 
right  up  where  the  battle  began.  Its  tributary  branches 
are  like  the  veins  of  a beech-leaf,  frequent  and  almost 
parallel,  coming  in  from  both  sides,  and  bordered  all 
the  way  with  swamp  or  thicket.  When  we  reached 
it,  and  while  several  of  us  with  rein  relaxed  were 
letting  our  horses  drink,  my  friend  Winne  approached 
on  our  right  hand.  The  wagons  and  batteries  ahead 
of  us  had  ploughed  through,  deepening  and  widen- 
ing the  deceitful  stream  into  a mud-hole.  Winne’s 
horse,  rather  thirsty,  and  undoubtedly  looking  for- 
ward with  pleasant  anticipations  of  poking  his  nose 
into  refreshing  water,  had  barely  planted  his  fore 
feet  in  it  before  he  turned  almost  a complete  somer- 
sault and  landed  Winne  full  length  in  the  water. 
When,  to  use  the  language  of  the  New  Testament,  he 
came  up  out  of  the  water,  his  cap  had  disappeared, 
and  he  certainly  was  a sight.  Well,  heartlessly  and 
instantaneously  we  youngsters  broke  into  howling 
delight.  Thereupon  Wynne’s  lips  opened  and  his  lan- 
guage flowed  freely,  marked  with  emphatic  use  of 
divine  and  to-hellish  terms  both  for  us  and  his  poor 
brute,  which  was  fully  as  much  surprised  as  any  one 
at  the  quick  turn  of  events.  The  doctor’s  address 
soon  reduced  our  loud  laughter  to  suppressed  giggles, 
which  brightened  our  way  for  a good  many  rods,  and 
which  still  ripple  along  the  beach  of  those  bygone 
years. 


96  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


When  Griffin’s  division,  leading  the  advance  of 
Warren’s  corps,  reached  the  Pike,  it  moved  out  on 
it  for  a mile  or  more  to  the  west,  the  road  rising 
steadily,  and  there  in  the  woods  beyond  the  leaning 
fields  of  the  Lacy  farm  it  went  into  bivouac.  Griffin 
pitched  his  tent  alongside  the  old  road  and  just  at 
the  edge  of  the  woods.  Little  did  he  or  his  men 
dream,  as  they  rested  after  their  long  march,  — how 
sweet  the  fragrance  of  the  boiling  coffee,  how  soft 
the  pine  needles  under  hip  and  elbow,  how  refreshing 
every  soft  breeze  on  the  forehead,  how  still  the  woods 
and  with  what  lovely  serene  delight  the  sunshine 
sifted  down  through  the  intermingled  branches  of  the 
trees ! — yes,  little  did  Griffin  or  his  men  dream  that 
Early’s  Confederate  division  of  Ewell’s  corps  would 
go  into  bivouac  along  the  same  road  and  only  three 
miles  away. 

Crawford’s  division  of  Warren’s  corps,  next  in  the 
column,  on  gaining  the  Pike  took  the  grassy  Parker’s 
Store  Road,  which  winds  up  Wilderness  Run  through 
the  Lacy  plantation.  He  halted  near  the  mansion 
and  made  it  his  headquarters  for  the  night.  The 
house  is  about  a half  mile  from  the  Pike,  faces  the 
east,  and  has  some  venerable  trees  in  the  door- 
yard. 

Wadsworth,  next  in  line,  camped  opposite  Craw- 
ford on  the  east  side  of  the  run,  picketing  toward 
Chancellorsville.  The  regiment  sent  on  this  duty 
was  the  Second  Wisconsin,  Cutler’s  brigade,  and  its 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  97 


adjutant,  G.  M.  Woodward  of  La  Crosse,  Wisconsin, 
says  that  where  he  established  the  line  of  pickets  the 
ground  here  and  there  blazed  with  wild  azaleas,  and 
at  first  presented  no  evidence  that  it  had  ever  been 
the  scene  of  battle;  dismounting  he  soon  found  scat- 
tered in  every  direction  the  debris  of  war  — knap- 
sacks, belts,  bayonets,  scabbards,  etc.  Farther  on  he 
saw  what  appeared  to  be  a long  trench  about  eight 
feet  wide,  filled  up  and  mounded,  its  edges  sunken 
and  covered  with  grass,  weeds,  and  wild  flowers. 
This  picket-line  ran  undoubtedly  through  Stonewall 
Jackson’s  field  hospital  of  just  a year  before,  to 
which  he  was  carried  when  wounded. 

Robinson,  who  brought  up  the  rear  of  the  corps, 
camped  on  the  Germanna  Road,  the  middle  of  his 
division  about  where  Caton’s  Run  comes  down 
through  the  woods  from  the  west. 

Some  of  the  batteries  parked  on  the  Lacy  farm, 
others  with  the  trains  in  the  fields  back  of  the  de- 
serted old  Wilderness  Tavern.  This  old  stage-house, 
indicated  on  all  the  maps  and  mentioned  many  times 
in  orders  and  reports,  was  a two-storied,  hewn-log 
house  in  its  day,  standing  on  the  north  side  of  the 
Pike,  at  the  top  of  the  ridge  about  three  hundred 
yards  east  of  Wilderness  Run.  It  overlooked  all  the 
Lacy  estate,  and  had  the  reader  stood  in  its  lonely 
dooryard  as  the  sun  was  going  down  and  the  shadows 
of  the  woods  were  reaching  into  the  fields,  the  men  of 
Crawford’s  and  Wadsworth’s  divisions,  all  preparing 


98  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


their  evening  meals,  the  smoke  of  their  little  fires  lift- 
ing softly  over  them,  would  have  been  in  full  view 
below  him.  From  the  same  point,  should  some  one 
have  directed  his  eye  to  a banner  with  a white  field 
and  a red  Maltese  cross  in  the  centre,  a mile  or  so 
to  the  west,  at  the  edge  of  the  woods,  it  would  have 
been  Griffin’s. 

Warren  made  his  headquarters  near  the  Pike,  on 
the  bare  ridge  which  separates  Wilderness  and  Ca- 
ton’s  runs,  and  about  opposite  the  knoll  that  Grant 
and  Meade  occupied  during  the  battle.  At  supper 
that  night  he  was  in  fine  spirits,  cheerier  at  heart,  I 
believe,  than  ever  afterwards,  unless  it  was  on  the 
field  of  Five  Forks  just  before  he  met  Sheridan,  who, 
in  that  passionate  moment,  then  and  there  peremp- 
torily relieved  him,  just  as  the  veterans  of  the  Fifth 
Corps,  whom  he  had  led  so  often,  were  cheering  him 
over  the  victory  he  had  helped  to  win.  Sheridan’s 
harsh  dealing  with  him,  however,  was  not  wholly  un- 
studied; for  Warren’s  relations  with  Grant,  which  felt 
their  first  strain  in  the  Wilderness  and  at  Spotsyl- 
vania, had  been  at  the  breaking-point,  and  Sheri- 
dan knew  it.  Moreover,  Grant  during  the  day  had 
sent  his  trusted  aide  Babcock  to  him,  with  authority 
to  relieve  Warren  in  case  he  should  not  come  up  to 
the  mark.  In  fact,  then,  and  in  extenuation  of 
Sheridan’s  conduct,  who  knows  all  that  Babcock 
said,  or  his  look  and  tones?  But  that  awful  hour 
of  storm  for  Warren  has  long  since  drifted  by,  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  99 


his  saddened  mind  found  the  grave’s  repose.  I 
have  no  doubt,  however,  that  when  they  finally  met 
in  the  other  world,  the  impulsive  Irishman  asked 
and  received  his  pardon. 

After  supper  I filled  my  pipe  and  sat  alone,  on  an 
old  gray  rail-fence  near  by,  till  the  sun  went  down 
and  evening  deepened  into  a twilight  of  great  peace. 
A brigade  camped  up  the  run  was  singing  hymns 
and  songs  that  I had  heard  at  home  as  a boy;  and, 
probably  with  feelings  deeper  than  my  own,  the 
timber  of  the  Wilderness  listened  also.  Slowly  out 
of  the  sky  bending  kindly  over  us  all,  — woods,  the 
Lacy  fields,  the  old  tavern,  and  murmuring  runs,  — 
the  light  faded  softly  away  and  on  came  night. 

Sedgwick’s  divisions  were  in  bivouac  along  the 
Germanna  Ford  Road  as  far  as  Flat  Run;  Getty 
next  to  Warren,  then  Wright,  in  the  old  Beale  plan- 
tation fields;  and  behind  him,  just  this  side  of  the 
river,  Ricketts,  who  had  crossed  the  Rapidan  about 
a quarter  of  four. 

Sheridan  had  pitched  his  headquarters  a third  of 
a mile  or  so  east  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  near  the  work- 
ings of  an  old  gold  mine;  orderlies,  with  his  cavalry 
corps  flag,  were  stationed  on  the  Germanna  Road  to 
show  the  way  to  his  camp.  Custer,  perhaps  the 
lightest-hearted  man  in  the  army,  with  whom  as  a 
cadet  I whiled  away  many  an  hour,  was  back  just 
this  side  of  Stevensburg,  his  brigade  guarding  the 
rear  of  the  army  and  especially  the  trains  at  Rich- 


100  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


ardsville.  Davies,  with  another  brigade  of  cavalry, 
was  at  Madden’s;  in  fact,  all  of  Sheridan’s  first 
division  was  posted  from  the  Rapidan  to  the  Rap- 
pahannock at  eight  o’clock  that  beautiful  May 
night. 

Wilson  with  the  Third  Division  was  at  Parker’s 
store,  one  brigade  picketing  up  the  Plank  Road  to 
the  west  and  front,  the  other  to  the  east  and  south. 
When  I was  there  last  May,  a couple  of  apple  trees 
were  in  bloom,  and  on  the  roadside  I met  an  old 
Confederate  whose  tawny  beard  was  streaked  with 
frost.  “Can  you  tell  me  where  General  Wilson  was 
camped?”  I asked.  He  replied,  “Stranger,  he  was 
camped  all  around  over  that  field  and  all  around 
yonder,”  waving  his  hand  sweepingly;  “but  I was 
off  with  Rosser’s  cavalry.  It  is  very  quiet  now,  sir.” 
And  so  it  was. 

The  trains  were  crossing  at  Ely’s  and  Culpeper 
Mine  fords  and  going  into  parks  near  Chancellors- 
ville. 

Grant  and  Meade,  after  crossing  the  river,  estab- 
lished their  headquarters  near  a deserted  house  whose 
neglected  fields  overlooked  the  ford.  At  1.15  p.  m., 
Hancock  and  Warren  having  met  with  no  opposition 
in  their  advance,  Grant  telegraphed  for  Burnside  to 
make  forced  marches  until  he  reached  Germanna 
Ford.  There  is  reason  to  believe,  it  seems  to  me,  that 
it  would  have  been  better  had  Burnside  been  brought 
up  nearer  before  the  movement  began.  For,  as  it 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  101 


was,  his  men  were  nearly  marched  to  death  to  over- 
take us;  and  as  a result,  they  were  altogether  too 
fagged  out  for  the  work  they  were  called  on  to  do  the 
morning  of  the  second  day.  The  same  criticism,  how- 
ever, can  be  made  on  Lee’s  failure  to  bring  Long- 
street  within  striking  distance.  Though,  to  be  sure, 
in  his  case,  he  did  not  know  whether  Grant  would 
cross  the  Rapidan  at  the  fords  above  or  below  him; 
if  above,  then  Longstreet  was  just  where  he  would 
have  needed  him.  I have  always  suspected  that  Lee 
feared  a move  on  that  flank  more  than  on  his  right, 
for  there  the  country  was  so  open  that  he  could  not 
conceal  the  paucity  of  his  numbers,  as  in  the  Wilder- 
ness. But,  however  this  may  be,  while  Hancock’s, 
Warren’s,  and  Sedgwick’s  men  on  our  side,  and  Hill’s 
and  Ewell’s  on  Lee’s,  were  resting  around  their 
camp-fires,  Burnside’s  and  Longstreet’s  were  still 
plodding  away,  long  after  their  comrades  in  the 
Wilderness  were  asleep.  Such,  then,  were  the  move- 
ments and  the  camping-places  of  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  on  the  4th  of  May. 

Meanwhile  the  enemy  had  been  moving  also. 
Ewell  reports  that,  by  order  of  General  Lee,  his  corps 
and  division-commanders  met  him  on  Monday,  May 
2,  at  the  signal  station  on  Clarke’s  Mountain,  and 
that  he  then  gave  it  as  his  opinion  that  Grant  would 
cross  below  him.  It  was  the  last  time  that  Lee  and 
his  valiant  subordinates  ever  visited  that  charming 
spot,  with  its  wide,  peaceful  view.  If  ever  the  reader 


102  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


should  be  in  that  vicinity,  I hope  he  will  not  fail  to 
go  to  the  top  of  the  mountain. 

At  an  early  hour  on  Wednesday  it  had  been  re- 
ported from  various  sources  to  Lee  that  Grant  was 
under  way.  By  eight  o’clock  this  news  was  fully  con- 
firmed and  he  transmitted  it  through  the  proper 
channels  to  his  corps-commanders,  with  orders  to 
get  ready  to  move.  Sorrel,  Longstreet’s  adjutant- 
general,  at  nine  o’clock  notified  General  E.  P.  Alex- 
ander — a soldier  and  a gentleman  whose  name  will 
last  long  — as  follows:  “Many  of  the  enemy’s  camps 
have  disappeared  from  the  front,  and  large  wagon- 
trains  are  reported  moving  through  Stevensburg. 
The  lieutenant-general  commanding  desires  that  you 
will  keep  your  artillery  in  such  condition  as  to  enable 
it  to  move  whenever  called  upon.”  It  was  the  artil- 
lery that  under  Alexander  tried  to  shake  our  lines 
at  Gettysburg  before  Pickett’s  charge.  The  same 
despatch  was  sent  to  Longstreet’s  division-command- 
ers, Field  and  Kershaw.  The  former  was  our  in- 
structor in  cavalry  at  West  Point,  and  rode  at  the 
head  of  the  troop  that  escorted  Edward  VII,  when 
as  Prince  of  Wales  he  came  to  West  Point  in  the  fall 
of  1860. 

It  is  reasonably  clear  that  by  eleven  o’clock  at  the 
latest  Lee  was  convinced  that  Wilson’s  and  Gregg’s 
crossings  of  the  Rapidan  were  not  the  beginning  of 
a raid,  or  a feint  to  cover  an  advance  up  the  river, 
but  the  opening  of  the  campaign.  Apparently  he 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  108 


seems  not  to  have  hesitated,  but  set  his  army  of 
sixty-odd  thousand  men  in  motion  for  the  Wilder- 
ness, taking  the  precaution  to  leave  Ramseur  with 
three  brigades  at  Rapidan  station,  to  meet  any  pos- 
sible danger  behind  the  mask  of  our  cavalry  under 
Custer.  Ewell,  who  commanded  his  Second  Corps, 
consisting  of  Rodes’s,  Johnson’s,  and  Early’s  divi- 
sions, was  to  draw  back  from  the  river  to  the  Pike 
and,  once  there,  to  march  for  Locust  Grove,  some 
eighteen  miles  to  the  eastward  and  within,  as  has 
been  related,  three  miles  of  where  Griffin  camped. 
His  Third  Corps,  A.  P.  Hill’s,  at  Orange  Court 
House,  was  to  take  the  Plank  Road  for  Verdierville 
or  beyond.  It  had  about  twenty-eight  miles  to  go. 

Longstreet  at  Gordonsville  and  Meehaniesburg 
was  first  ordered  to  follow  Hill,  but  later,  at  his  sug- 
gestion, he  took  roads  south  of  the  Plank  leading  into 
the  Catharpin,  which  strike  the  Brock  Road,  the  key 
of  the  campaign,  at  Todd’s  Tavern.  From  his  camp 
to  where  his  men  met  Hancock  the  morning  of  the 
second  day,  east  of  Parker’s  store,  was  forty-two 
miles.  None  of  Lee’s  corps  got  well  under  way  before 
noon;  and  by  that  time  over  half  of  Hancock’s  and  all 
of  Warren’s  were  across  the  river.  It  was  after  dusk 
when  Ewell  passed  through  Locust  Grove;  and  the 
bats  were  wavering  through  the  twilight  over  the 
heads  of  Hill’s  men  as  they  dropped  down  to  rest  at 
Verdierville.  Longstreet’s  veterans,  those  who  in  the 
previous  autumn  smashed  our  lines  at  Chickamauga 


104  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


and  who  left  so  many  of  their  dead  at  Knoxville, 
were  still  on  the  march. 

Sometimes,  when  alone  before  my  wood-fire,  my 
mind  floating  over  the  fields  of  this  narrative,  and 
one  after  another  of  its  scenes  breaking  into  view, 
I have  been  conscious  of  wishing  that  with  you, 
reader,  at  my  side,  I could  have  stood  near  their  line 
of  march.  I should  like  to  have  seen  those  men, 
— and  so  would  you,  — the  heroes  of  the  Peach- 
Orchard  and  Round  Top  at  Gettysburg,  as  well  as 
of  Chickamauga.  I should  like  to  have  seen  also  the 
North  Carolinians  of  Hill’s  corps  who,  with  the 
Virginians,  made  Pickett’s  charge.  But  above  all  I 
should  like  to  have  seen  the  face  of  the  officer  who, 
on  the  succeeding  night,  hearing  the  pitiful  cries 
for  water  of  our  wounded  in  Griffin’s  front,  could 
stand  it  no  longer  and  crawled  over  the  breastworks, 
notwithstanding  the  persistent  fire  from  our  lines, 
made  his  way  to  where  one  of  our  wounded  men  lay, 
took  his  canteen,  and,  groping  to  a little  branch  of 
Wilderness  Run,  filled  it  and  brought  it  to  his  stricken 
enemy  and  then  went  back  to  his  own  lines.  If  ever 
the  spirit  of  that  Good  Samaritan  should  come  to  my 
door,  he  shall  have  the  best  chair  before  my  fire;  I’ll 
lay  on  another  stick  of  wood  and  let  its  beams  kiss 
his  manly  face  as  we  talk  over  those  bygone  days. 
Yes,  I wish  that  with  a reader  who  would  enjoy  such 
a scene  I could  have  stood  under  a spreading-limbed 
tree  on  the  roadside  and  seen  Field  and  Kershaw, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  105 


Ewell  and  Gordon,  Heth  and  Alexander,  march  on 
their  way  to  the  Wilderness. 

Stuart  began  to  draw  in  his  cavalry  toward  Ver- 
dierville  as  soon  as  he  knew  of  our  movement.  The 
regiments  which  had  wintered  in  the  vicinity  of 
Hamilton’s  Crossing  and  at  Milford  on  the  Freder- 
icksburg and  Richmond  Railroad  directed  their 
march  by  way  of  Spotsylvania ; Rosser  set  out  from 
Wolf  Town  in  Madison  County,  passed  through 
Orange  Court  House,  and  camped  beside  Hill.  Fitz 
Lee  came  in  from  the  neighborhood  of  Gordonsville 
and  bivouacked  on  the  Catharpin,  near  enough  to  go 
to  Rosser’s  aid  the  next  morning. 

Lee  encamped  in  the  woods  opposite  the  home 
of  Mrs.  Rodes,  near  Verdierville. 

Able  critics  have  blamed  him  for  fighting  Grant 
in  the  Wilderness.  They  maintain  that  he  might  have 
avoided  all  of  his  losses  there  by  going  at  once  to 
Spotsylvania,  and  entrenched,  for  they  assume  that 
Grant  would  have  followed  the  same  system  of  re- 
peated assaults  that  he  did  after  the  Wilderness,  and 
that  he  would  have  met  with  severer  repulses.  It  will 
be  conceded,  knowing  Grant  as  we  do,  that  in  all 
probability  he  would  have  gone  straight  at  his  adver- 
sary, and  that  no  works  which  Lee  could  have  thrown 
up  at  Spotsylvania  or  elsewhere  would  have  daunted 
him:  the  appalling  record  of  that  battle-summer 
would  certainly  seem  to  justify  such  a conclusion. 
And,  by  the  way,  one  among  the  reasons  which  con- 


106  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


tributed  to  make  it  so  deadly  may  be  found  possibly 
in  the  fact  that  Grant  came  to  the  army  with  an 
impression  that  in  many  of  its  big  engagements  under 
McClellan,  Pope,  Hooker,  and  Meade,  it  had  not 
been  fought  to  an  end.  However  this  may  have  been, 
long  before  we  got  to  the  James  River  the  grounds 
for  a like  impression,  I think,  were  gone.  At  any 
rate,  go  ask  the  slopes  before  the  Confederate  works 
at  Spotsylvania,  Cold  Harbor,  and  Petersburg  what 
they  think  about  it,  — if  they  even  dream  that  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  was  not  fought  to  its  limit. 

Perhaps  there  was  a better  way  than  Grant’s  way 
of  handling  the  gallant  old  army  but  I find  no  fault : 
I am  only  sorry  so  much  blood  had  to  flow.  We 
are  in  the  habit  of  thinking  it  was' a war  between 
North  and  South;  not  at  all,  it  was  between  two 
mutually  antagonistic  forces  vastly  older  than  our 
country  — it  was  the  final  death  grapple  on  this 
earth  of  Freedom  and  Slavery,  and  the  sacrifice  of 
sons  North  and  South  had  to  be  made,  bringing 
many  tears. 

In  regard  to  the  wisdom  of  Lee  fighting  in  the 
Wilderness,  I think  we  can  be  sure  of  one  thing, — 
that  his  decision  was  not  the  result  of  sudden  im- 
pulse. For  what  he  should  do  with  his  army,  little 
as  compared  with  Grant’s,  when  spring  should  open, 
had  no  doubt  been  weighed  and  re-weighed,  as  night 
after  night  he  sat  before  his  green-oak  fire  at  the 
foot  of  Clarke’s  Mountain.  His  critics,  moreover,  will 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  107 


agree  that  he  was  too  good  a tactician  not  to  know 
that,  if  he  should  adopt  the  defensive  from  the  out- 
set and  go  to  Spotsylvania,  Grant  could  flank  not 
only  that  position  but  any  position  he  might  take 
between  there  and  Richmond.  Again,  those  who  find 
fault  with  him  for  fighting  in  the  Wilderness  will 
have  to  acknowledge,  we  believe,  that  he  was  too 
good  a general  not  to  realize  that  any  backward 
steps  he  might  be  forced  to  make,  for  any  reason 
whatsoever,  would  have  a bad  effect  on  the  spirit 
of  his  army.  Of  course,  he  knew  that  sooner  or  later 
in  the  campaign  he  would  have  to  assume  the  offen- 
sive, and  take  his  chances.  It  is  obvious  that  in  case 
of  defeat,  the  nearer  Richmond  he  should  be  the 
more  serious  might  be  the  results:  he  had  had  one 
experience  of  that  kind  at  Malvern  Hill,  which  is 
within  ten  miles  of  Richmond,  and  I am  sure  he 
never  wanted  another  like  it;  for  all  accounts  agree, 
and  are  confirmed  by  what  I have  heard  from  Con- 
federates themselves,  that  his  army  and  Richmond 
were  on  the  verge  of  panic. 

In  justification  of  the  plan  that  he  followed,  where 
is  there  a field  between  the  Rapidan  and  Richmond 
on  which  his  sixty-five  thousand  men  could  have 
hoped  to  attack  Grant’s  one  hundred  and  twenty 
thousand  under  such  favorable  conditions?  where  his 
numbers  would  be  so  magnified  in  effectiveness,  and 
Grant’s  so  neutralized,  by  the  natural  difficulties  and 
terror  of  the  woods?  — for  dense  woods  do  have  a 


108  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


terror.  Again,  where  on  the  march  to  Richmond 
would  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  from  the  nature  of 
the  country  and  the  roads,  be  more  embarrassed  in 
the  use  of  its  vastly  superior  artillery,  or  in  concen- 
trating its  strength,  if  battle  were  thrust  upon  it 
suddenly? 

Save  right  around  Chancellorsville,  the  region  was 
an  almost  unknown  country  to  our  people,  while  to 
Lee  and  his  men  it  was  comparatively  familiar.  He 
himself  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  its  wooded 
character,  paths,  runs,  and  roads.  Moreover,  he 
knew  the  military  advantages  they  afforded,  for  he 
had  tested  them  in  his  campaign  against  Hooker. 
Taking  all  this  into  account,  then,  it  seems  to  me 
that  in  planning  his  campaign  to  strike  at  Grant 
just  when  and  where  he  did,  he  planned  wisely.  For 
it  presented  the  one  good  chance  to  win  a decisive 
victory,  which,  as  I have  said  before,  was  absolutely 
necessary  to  save  the  life  of  the  Confederacy.  It  is 
true  Lee  failed  to  win  the  victory  he  had  planned  and 
hoped  for.  But  little  had  he  reckoned  upon  a second 
intervention  of  Fate:  that  the  spirit  of  the  Wilder- 
ness would  strike  Longstreet  just  as  victory  was  in  his 
grasp  as  it  had  struck  Stonewall. 

Reader,  if  the  Spirit  of  the  Wilderness  be  unreal 
to  you,  not  so  is  it  to  me.  Bear  in  mind  that  the 
native  realm  of  the  spirit  of  man  is  nature’s  king- 
dom, that  there  he  has  made  all  of  his  discoveries, 
and  yet  what  a vast  region  is  unexplored,  that  re- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  109 


gion  along  whose  misty  coast  Imagination  wings 
her  way  bringing  one  suggestion  after  another  of 
miraculous  transformations,  each  drawing  new  light 
and  each  proclaiming  that  nature’s  heart  beats  with 
our  own. 

A little  before  sundown,  when  all  were  in  camp 
for  the  night.  Grant  issued  his  orders  for  the  next 
day.  Sheridan  was  to  move  with  Gregg  and  Torbert 
against  the  enemy’s  cavalry,  who  at  that  hour  were 
supposed  to  be  at  Hamilton’s  Crossing,  and  who,  as 
a matter  of  fact,  were  not  there  at  all.  Wilson,  with 
his  Third  Cavalry  Division,  was  to  move  at  5 a.  m. 
to  Craig’s  Meeting  House,  on  the  Catharpin  Road, 
the  one  that  Longstreet  had  chosen  for  his  approach. 
Warren  was  to  take  Wilson’s  place  at  Parker’s  store; 
Sedgwick  to  move  up  to  Old  Wilderness  Tavern, 
leaving  one  division  at  Germanna  Ford  till  the  head 
of  Burnside’s  corps  appeared;  in  other  words,  he 
was  to  occupy  Warren’s  present  position  with  his 
whole  corps  across  the  Pike.  Hancock  was  to  ad- 
vance by  way  of  Todd’s  Tavern  to  Shady  Grove 
Church  on  the  Catharpin  Road,  and  from  there, 
about  three  and  a half  miles  south  of  Warren,  throw 
out  his  right  and  connect  with  him  at  Parker’s  store. 
Of  the  infantry,  Hancock  had  by  far  the  longest 
march  to  make,  about  twelve  miles;  the  others  only 
very  short  ones,  not  more  than  three  or  four  miles. 
The  trains  were  to  be  parked  at  Todd’s  Tavern. 

None  of  the  moves,  as  we  have  stated,  were 


110  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


long,  or  apparently  any  part  of  a well-defined  series 
of  movements,  but,  rather,  precautionary.  They 
neither  seriously  threatened  Lee’s  communications 
with  Richmond,  nor  indicated  an  active  offensive, 
but  were  clearly  made  with  a view  to  allow  Burnside 
to  overtake  the  army,  and  to  get  the  big,  unwieldy 
supply-trains  a bit  forward;  for  there  was  practically 
only  one  narrow  road,  and  not  a very  good  one  at 
that,  from  where  they  were  then  halted  to  Todd’s 
Tavern.  It  was  for  these  reasons,  I think,  that 
Grant’s  orders  did  not  push  the  army  on  clear  through 
the  Wilderness  the  second  day.  But  whatsoever  may 
have  been  the  reason,  there  is  something  very  strik- 
ing in  his  repetition  of  Hooker’s  delay  of  the  year 
before.  All  vitality  (and  bluster,  for  that  matter) 
was  Hooker  till  he  reached  the  heart  of  the  Wilder- 
ness, but  no  sooner  was  he  there  than  he  became 
mentally  numb  and  purposeless  as  though  he  had 
breathed  some  deep,  stagnating  fumes.  A year, 
almost  to  a day,  the  army  marched  again,  briskly 
and  cheerily,  to  the  heart  of  the  Wilderness;  and 
before  its  bivouac  fires  had  died  down,  — indeed, 
before  the  sun  had  set,  — the  orders  for  the  follow- 
ing day  seemed  to  indicate  that  the  lotus  in  the 
fateful  region’s  gloom  was  again  at  work.  While 
aides  are  carrying  the  orders  to  their  respective  des- 
tinations for  the  next  day’s  march,  the  day  ends, 
and  twilight  comes  on. 

After  night  had  set  in,  Meade,  having  disposed  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  111 


all  his  current  official  duties  for  the  day,  came  over 
from  his  headquarters  — they  were  only  a few  steps 
away  — and  joined  Grant  before  a large  camp-fire 
made  of  rails.  Grant’s  staff  withdrew  to  a fire  of 
their  own,  and  left  them  alone. 

Meade  was  Grant’s  senior  by  about  ten  years,  and 
the  paths  of  their  lives  had  run  widely  apart;  un- 
clouded sunshine  had  fallen  richly  on  Meade’s, 
adversity’s  blasts  had  blown  fiercely  across  Grant’s. 
They  were  practically  strangers  to  each  other  as  they 
met  at  this  camp-fire,  and  we  may  credit  Meade,  as 
he  took  his  seat  in  its  mellow  blaze,  with  a wandering 
curiosity,  a keen  interest  to  fathom  the  medium  sized 
diffident  man  with  the  marvelous  career.  He  would 
not  have  been  human  without  it;  for  as  Grant  had 
risen  in  his  mighty  flight,  there  had  drifted  to  him 
as  to  every  old  officer  of  the  army,  minute  details  of 
the  awful  eclipse  under  which  he  had  left  it  and  the 
hard,  honest  trials  he  had  met  in  supporting  his  family. 

Knowing  ourselves  and  our  fellow  men  as  we  do, 
it  is  not  unreasonable  then  to  imagine  Meade,  a man 
of  the  world,  of  cultivation,  and  at  home  in  society 
and  clubs,  following  Grant’s  motions  and  speech  with 
the  unobtrusive  yet  keen  observation  of  men  of  his 
class;  or  to  imagine  Grant  having  to  meet  from  him, 
as  from  all  his  old  fellow  officers  of  the  army,  that 
searching  look  which  had  met  him  invariably  since 
his  emergence  from  obscurity.  But  I can  easily  see 
Meade’s  curiosity  disarming,  and  his  noble,  fiery 


112  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


nature  breathing  naturally  and  strengthening  in  the 
soothing  influence  of  Grant’s  deep  calm;  every  ut- 
terance of  his  low  vibrating  voice  gliding  modestly 
from  one  grasp  of  a subject  to  another,  every  tone 
simple  and  un-self-conscious,  every  thought  as  dis- 
tinct and  fresh  as  a coin  from  the  mint. 

I have  no  doubt  that  Grant’s  naturally  sweet, 
modest  nature,  together  with  the  auguries,  which 
were  all  good,  made  Meade’s  first  camp-fire  with  him 
a pleasant  one;  and  that,  before  its  flames  and  in  the 
wild  charm  of  the  place,  was  born  the  spirit  of  loyal 
codperation  which  he  showed  to  his  chief  on  every 
field  and  clear  to  the  end. 

Our  country  owes  a great  deal  to  both  of  these 
men;  justice,  but  not  more  than  justice,  has  been 
done  to  Grant.  Meade  has  never  had  his  due.  As 
I look  back  and  see  his  devotion  day  and  night  in 
that  last  great  campaign,  his  hair  growing  grayer, 
and  the  furrows  in  his  face  deeper,  under  its  trying 
burden,  and  then,  when  it  is  all  over  and  the  cause 
is  won,  see  him  relegated  to  the  third  or  fourth  place 
in  official  recognition  and  popular  favor,  I feel  deeply 
sorry,  knowing,  as  I do,  how  the  country’s  fate  hung 
in  the  balance  when  he  was  called  on  to  take  com- 
mand of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  I hope  his  last 
hour  was  comforted,  that  there  came  to  him  out  of 
the  Past  the  cheers  of  his  countrymen,  greeting  his 
victory  at  Gettysburg. 

After  his  death  it  was  found  that  his  system  had 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  113 


never  recovered  from  the  wound  he  received  at 
Charles  City  Cross  Roads. 

From  all  accounts  they  were  both  cheery  over 
having  the  army  across  the  Rapidan.  Anxiety  over 
their  first  move  was  all  gone.  The  stubborn  resistance 
that  Lee  might  have  offered  to  their  crossing  of  the 
river  had  not  been  made;  and  now  that  they  were 
well  established  on  his  flank,  he  would  be  forced  to 
decisive  action:  he  would  either  have  to  fight  it  out 
at  once,  or  fall  back  and  ultimately  undergo  a siege. 
In  the  way  they  misconceived  wThat  Lee  would  do, 
there  is  almost  a suggestion  of  fatality.  For  although 
there  is  no  absolute  corroborative  evidence  to  sup- 
port the  conclusion,  yet  the  movements  show  that 
what  they  expected  was  this:  that  he  would  hastily 
withdraw  from  his  works  and  place  his  army  to 
receive,  but  not  to  give,  attack.  Hooker  had  yielded 
to  the  same  illusion.  In  forecasting  his  Chancellors- 
ville  campaign,  he  had  imagined  that  when  Lee  at 
Fredericksburg  found  that  he  was  on  his  flank  at 
Chancellorsville,  he  would  fall  back  from  Fredericks- 
burg and  contest  the  way  to  Richmond.  The  differ- 
ence between  the  results  in  Hooker’s  case  and  in 
Grant’s  was  wide:  the  former  was  driven  from  the 
field  in  almost  utter  disaster;  Grant  met  Lee’s  attack 
in  the  Wilderness,  threw  him  back,  and  pushed  on 
undaunted. 

Had  Meade  and  Grant, — as  they  sat  there,  the  stars 
over  them  and  the  Rapidan  swirling  along,  now  and 


114  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


then  breaking  into  a gurgle,  — had  they  known  that 
Ewell  was  within  three  miles  of  Warren,  it  would 
have  been,  I think,  quite  another  camp-fire,  and 
Meade  might  never  have  gained  those  first  fine  im- 
pressions of  Grant  which  were  so  honorable  to  him 
and  so  valuable  to  the  country,  for  whose  sake,  I 
sincerely  believe,  Fortune  so  turned  her  wheel  that 
they  might  be  made  that  night. 

It  is  a matter  of  singular  interest  that  all  this  time 
Lee’s  position  was  barely  suspected,  and  his  purpose 
entirely  unknown  to  either  of  them.  And  how  it  all 
came  about  is  one  of  the  mysterious  features  of  the 
Battle  of  the  Wilderness.  Let  me  state  the  circum- 
stances, and  I promise  to  make  the  account  as  short 
and  comprehensible  as  I can. 

Wilson,  with  his  third  division  of  cavalry,  reached 
the  Lacy  farm  about  half-past  eight  in  the  forenoon ; 
halted,  and  sent  patrols  westward  and  southward, 
that  is,  out  on  the  Pike  toward  Locust  Grove  and 
along  the  county  road  to  Parker’s  store.  At  noon, 
when  the  head  of  Warren’s  corps  bore  in  sight,  he  set 
off  for  Parker’s,  first  sending  orders  to  the  scouting 
party  on  the  Pike  to  push  out  as  far  as  Robertson’s 
Tavern  (now,  and  by  the  Confederates  during  the 
war,  called  Locust  Grove)  and,  after  driving  the 
enemy  away  from  that  place,  to  ride  across  country 
and  join  the  division  in  the  neighborhood  of  Par- 
ker’s store.  Wilson,  with  the  bulk  of  his  division, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  115 


on  arriving  at  the  store  about  two  o’clock,  sent  a 
strong  reconnoissance  up  the  Plank  Road,  with  di- 
rections to  keep  an  active  lookout  for  the  enemy. 
In  a despatch  to  Forsythe,  Sheridan’s  chief  of  staff, 
dated  2.10  p.  M.,  he  said,  “I  send  herewith  a civilian, 
Mr.  Sime,  a citizen  of  Great  Britain.  He  says  he 
left  Orange  yesterday  2 p.  M. ; Longstreet’s  corps  lies 
between  there  and  Gordonsville;  passed  at  the  latter 
place;  Ewell  and  Hill  about  Orange  Court  House. 
Troops  well  down  toward  Mine  Run  [about  half-way 
between  the  Lacy  farm  and  the  Court  House],  on 
all  the  roads  except  this  one  [the  Plank] ; none  on  this 
nearer  than  seven  miles  to  this  place.  I have  sent 
patrols  well  out  in  all  directions,  but  as  yet  hear  of 
nothing  except  few  light  parties  scattered  through 
the  by-roads.” 

Sheridan  sent  the  following  despatch  to  Meade,  — 
the  hour  not  given,  but  presumably  toward  sundown : 
“I  have  the  honor  to  report  that  scout  sent  out  the 
first  road  leading  to  the  right  from  Germanna  Ford 
went  as  far  as  Barnett’s  Mill  at  or  near  Mine  Run 
[Barnett’s  Mill  is  on  Mine  Run],  found  the  enemy’s 
pickets.  Also  the  scout  sent  out  on  the  second  road 
to  the  right  [the  Flat  Run  Road  that  intersects  the 
Pike  where  the  battle  began]  went  to  within  one-half 
mile  of  Robertson’s  Tavern,  found  a small  force  of 
the  enemy’s  cavalry  on  picket.  It  was  also  reported 
that  a brigade  of  rebel  infantry  was  sent  down  to 
Barnett’s  Mill  or  Mine  Run  yesterday.” 


116  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


These  scouts  referred  to  were  probably  individ- 
uals in  Confederate  uniform,  for  Sheridan  always 
kept  a group  of  these  quiet,  daring  men  about  him 
on  whom  he  called  for  hazardous  service. 

At  7.40  p.  m.  Wilson  again  reported  to  Forsythe: 
“I  have  executed  all  orders  so  far.  My  patrols  have 
been  to  the  Catharpin  Road.  Did  not  see  Gregg, 
and  only  two  of  the  enemy;  also  to  within  one  mile 
of  Mine  Run  on  Orange  Pike  [Plank?]  skirmishing 
with  small  detachments  of  the  enemy.  Patrol  to 
Robertson’s  Tavern  not  yet  heard  from.” 

Ten  minutes  later,  or  at  7.50  p.  m.,  Wilson  sent 
this  despatch  to  Warren:  “My  whole  division  is  at 
this  place  [Parker’s  store],  patrols  and  advanced  par- 
ties well  out  on  the  Spotsylvania  and  Orange  roads. 
No  enemy  on  former,  and  but  small  parties  on  this. 
Drove  them  six  miles  or  to  within  one  mile  of  Mine 
Road.  Patrol  from  here  toward  Robertson’s  not  yet 
reported.  Rodes’s  division  reported  to  be  stretched 
along  the  road  as  far  as  twelve  miles  this  side  of 
Orange.  Will  notify  you  of  any  changes  in  this 
direction.” 

Here  we  have  all  the  recorded  information  that 
Meade  could  have  received  of  the  enemy  up  to  when 
he  joined  Grant  at  his  camp-fire. 

Probably  the  reason'  why  "Wilson’s  report  as  to 
Rodes’s  position  made  no  impression  on  Humphreys 
or  Meade  — for  it  must  be  assumed  that  it  reached 
them  — was  because  they  interpreted  it  as  meaning 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  117 


his  winter-quarters,  which  was  nothing  new,  for 
prisoners  and  deserters  had  given  them  that  infor- 
mation during  the  winter,  and  they  had  so  located 
him  on  a map  kept  for  the  purpose.  Their  interpreta- 
tion accounts,  too,  for  neither  Warren  nor  Sheridan 
making  any  further  suggestion  to  Wilson  as  to  Rodes’s 
whereabouts.  The  fact  is  that  at  that  very  hour  of 
7.50  p.  M.  he  was  bivouacked  just  behind  Johnson’s 
and  Nelson’s  battalion  of  artillery  two  miles  south 
of  Locust  Grove,  and  the  head  of  Hill’s  corps  was 
east  of  Verdierville. 

There  is  but  one  explanation  for  this  mysterious 
indifference  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy,  namely, 
that  Grant  and  Meade  were  possessed  with  the  idea 
that  Lee,  as  soon  as  he  should  find  that  we  had 
crossed  the  Rapidan,  would  hasten  from  his  lines  to 
some  position  beyond  the  Wilderness.  No  fog  ever 
drifted  in  from  the  sea,  wrapping  up  lighthouses 
and  headlands,  that  was  deeper  than  this  delusion 
which  drifted  in  over  the  minds  of  Grant  and 
Meade,  and,  so  far  as  I know,  over  corps  and  divi- 
sion-commanders as  well. 

But  how  about  Wilson’s  patrols?  And  especially 
that  one  he  had  sent  toward  Locust  Grove?  This  is 
probably  what  happened.  It  got  to  Locust  Grove 
before  noon,  having  scattered  into  the  by-roads  and 
paths  the  videttes  of  the  First  North  Carolina 
cavalry  whom  they  had  brushed  away  from  the  ford 
at  daybreak.  From  there  I assume  they  went  on  to 


118  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Mine  Run,  which  they  found  glinting  brightly  down 
through  the  old  fields  from  one  clump  of  willows 
to  another.  Beyond  the  run,  and  in  full  sight,  rose 
Lee’s  breastworks  of  the  year  before,  not  a flag  fly- 
ing on  them  or  a soul  in  them.  All  was  peaceful 
at  Mine  Run.  After  a while,  having  scouted  up  and 
down  the  run  as  far  as  Barnett’s  Mill  on  the  north, 
and  off  toward  the  head  of  the  run  on  the  south, 
they  rejoined  the  main  patrol  at  Locust  Grove. 
No  one  disturbed  them,  and  there  they  waited  till 
they  saw  the  sun  approaching  the  tree-tops,  and 
then  they  obeyed  their  orders  and  struck  off 
through  the  woods  for  Parker’s  store.  The  chances 
are  that  their  dust  had  barely  settled  before  on  came 
Ewell.  Had  they  stayed  at  Locust  Grove  a few  hours 
longer,  what  would  have  happened?  Why,  the  orders 
issued  at  6 o’clock  would  have  been  countermanded 
at  once.  Warren  and  Sedgwick  would  have  struck 
at  Ewell  early  in  the  morning,  and  Hancock,  instead 
of  going  to  Todd’s  Tavern,  would  have  reached 
Parker’s  store  by  sun-up,  and  probably  before  noon 
a great  victory  would  have  been  won. 

Is  there  nothing  mysterious  in  all  this?  Knowing 
the  situation  as  we  now  do,  does  it  not  add  interest 
to  that  camp-fire  of  old  rails,  before  which  Grant  and 
Meade  are  sitting  smoking?  Does  it  not  give  a weird 
echo  to  the  bursts  of  laughter  of  their  staffs?  Laugh 
on,  gay  children  of  fortune!  and  meanwhile  the  spirit 
of  the  Wilderness  is  brooding. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  119 


Lee’s  camp-fire  was  in  the  woods  opposite  the 
house  of  a Mrs.  Rodes  near  Yerdierville;  and  it  must 
have  been  a cheery  one,  for  General  Long,  his  military 
secretary,  says  that  at  breakfast  the  following  morn- 
ing he  was  in  unusually  fine  spirits,  chiefly  over  the 
fact  that  Grant  had  put  himself  in  the  meshes  of  the 
Wilderness,  just  as  Hooker  before  him  had  done, 
giving  him  the  one  chance  to  overbalance  his  one 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  men. 

From  Grant’s  headquarters  to  Lee’s  was,  as  the 
crow  flies,  between  nine  and  ten  miles;  and  a circle 
with  its  centre  where  Warren  was  in  camp  and  a 
radius  of  six  miles  would  have  taken  in  the  bulk  of 
ours  and  half  of  Lee’s  army.  And  yet  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  lay  down  to  rest,  unconscious  that  they 
were  almost  within  gunshot  of  their  old  foe! 

Happily  all  of  their  camps  were  on  less  gloomy 
and  fated  ground  than  Hancock’s.  His  were  on  the 
old  battlefield  of  Chancellorsville,  and  some  of  his 
regiments  found  themselves  on  the  identical  lines 
where  they  had  fought  in  that  engagement.  The 
ground  around  their  camp-fires,  and  for  that  matter 
everywhere,  was  strewn  more  or  less  with  human 
bones  and  the  skeletons  of  horses.  In  a spot  less 
than  ten  rods  square,  fifty  skulls  with  their  cavern- 
ous eyes  were  counted,  their  foreheads  doming  in 
silence  above  the  brown  leaves  that  were  gathering 
about  them.  In  sight  of  a good  many  of  their  camp- 
fires, too,  were  half-open  graves,  displaying  arms  and 


120  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


legs  with  bits  of  paling  and  mildewed  clothing  still 
clinging  to  them : — oh,  war’s  glory,  this  is  your  re- 
verse side ! — On  all  hands  there  were  tokens  of  the 
battle:  shriveling  cartridge-boxes,  battered  and  rick- 
etty  canteens,  rotting  caps  and  hats,  broken  artil- 
lery-carriages, barked  and  splintered  trees,  dead,  or 
half-dead,  dangling  limbs,  and  groves  of  saplings, 
with  which  the  woods  abound,  topped  by  volleys  as 
if  sheared  by  a blast.  Of  course,  there  was  line  after 
line  of  confronting,  settling  breastworks,  whose  shal- 
lowing trenches  nature  was  quietly  filling  with  leaves 
and  dead  twigs.  All  these  dismal  reminders  met  the 
eyes  of  Hancock’s  men  until  they  were  closed  in 
sleep.  I do  not  know  how  it  would  have  affected 
others,  but  I think  that  if  I had  been  sitting  before 
one  of  those  camp-fires,  night  having  well  come  on 
and  the  whippoorwills,  of  which  there  are  thou- 
sands that  make  their  homes  in  the  Wilderness,  re- 
peating their  lonely  cries,  and  the  fire  drawing  to  its 
end  should  have  suddenly  kindled  up  as  fires  do,  — 
and  mortals,  too,  sometimes  before  they  die,  — and 
thrown  off  a beam  into  the  darkness  upon  one  of 
those  skulls,  it  seems  to  me  that  I should  have  felt  a 
low,  muffling  beat  in  my  heart,  and  heard  the  rap 
of  life’s  seriousness  at  its  door. 

Hancock’s  tent  was  in  the  old  peach-orchard. 
(What  is  there  about  a peach-orchard  that  war 
should  choose  it  for  the  scene  of  battles?  There  was 
the  battle  of  Peach-tree  Creek  near  Atlanta,  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  121 


Peach-Orchard  at  Gettysburg,  and  now  Hancock 
is  in  the  old  peach-orchard  at  Chaneellorsville,  where 
the  battle  raged  fiercest.  Does  war  love  the  red  blos- 
som, or  did  the  blood  of  some  noble-hearted  soldier 
quicken  the  first  peach-bloom  of  the  world?)  It  is 
reasonable  to  believe  that  the  whole  disastrous  scene 
of  the  year  before  must  have  passed  in  review  before 
Hancock.  But  the  feature  of  the  battle  that  would 
come  back  to  him,  I think,  with  most  vividness,  and 
make  the  deepest  impression  on  him  as  a corps-com- 
mander, was  the  flank  attack  that  Stonewall  Jackson 
made.  In  fact,  judging  from  his  own  reports  of  the 
first  two  days’  fighting  at  the  Wilderness  (which  took 
place  within  less  than  three  miles  of  where  he  slept) , 
he  not  only  thought  about  it,  but  dreamed  about  it. 
For,  the  entire  time  he  was  fighting  Hill,  he  was 
haunted  with  the  fear,  paralyzing  a great  share  of 
his  customary  aggressive  and  magnetic  usefulness, 
that  Longstreet  would  come  up  on  his  left  by  way 
of  Todd’s  Tavern  and  give  him  a blow  on  his  flank 
such  as  Jackson  had  given  Howard. 

I wonder,  Reader,  if  the  ghost  of  Stonewall  did 
not  really  come  back?  You  see,  it  was  about  the 
anniversary  of  the  night  on  which  he  received  his 
mortal  wound,  and  the  old  armies  that  he  knew  so 
well  were  on  the  eve  of  meeting  again.  What  should 
be  more  natural  than  that  he  should  come  to  this 
side  of  the  river,  that  river  whose  beckoning  trees 
offered  such  sweet  shade  to  the  dying  soldier?  Did 


122  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


I hear  you  say  that  you  thought  he  did?  Whylo!  here 
he  is  on  the  field  of  Chancellorsville,  looking  for  his 
brigade,  — for  his  old  legion  of  the  Valley.  Let  us 
draw  near.  “They  are  not  here,  Stonewall;  these 
men  you  see  are  Hancock’s  men.”  And  now  he  goes 
to  the  peach-orchard,  for  no  soldier  ever  took  part  in  a 
battle  who  does  not  have  a longing  to  see  the  ground 
the  enemy  defended.  He  approaches  Hancock’s  tent, 
— they  had  known  each  other  in  the  old  army,  — 
with  his  right  hand  — his  left  arm  you  remember 
was  amputated  two  inches  below  the  shoulder  — he 
draws  the  walls  softly,  and  looks  in  on  the  gallant 
friend  of  other  days.  Perhaps  it  was  then  that 
Hancock  dreamed  Longstreet  was  on  his  flank. 

! Stonewall  closes  the  tent  and  seems  to  ponder; 
is  he  debating  where  he  shall  go  next?  Shall  it  be 
off  to  where  he  parted  with  Lee  to  make  his  great 
flank  movement  via  the  old  Furnace  Road  where 
Gregg’s  cavalry  outposts,  saddled  and  bridled,  are 
now  dozing,  or  shall  it  be  back  to  where  he  met  the 
fatal  volley?  The  latter  has  won.  If  you  will  follow 
him,  so  will  I,  for  the  road,  the  woods  that  border 
it,  and  the  spot  to  which  he  is  going,  I know  right 
well.  And  now  that  he  has  reached  there  his  lips 
seem  to  move;  is  it  a prayer  he  is  offering?  Or  is  he 
addressing  some  aide,  telling  Hill  as  on  the  night  of 
the  battle  to  come  up  and  Pender  to  push  right  on? 

Abruptly,  and  with  almost  a gasp,  he  fastens  his 
astonished  gaze  on  a cowled  figure  that  has  emerged 


GENERAL  MAP 

OF  THE 

WILDERNESS 

SCALE  C'  MILES 

0 12  3 


1 - Where  Longstreet  was'wounded 

2—  -Where  Stonewall  was  mortally  wounded 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TEE  WILDERNESS  123 


from  the  trees  and  is  looking  at  him.  Is  it  the 
Spirit  of  the  Wilderness,  whose  relentless  eyes  met 
his  as  he  fell,  and  does  he  read  in  their  cold  depths 
the  doom  awaiting  Longstreet?  Who  knows  his 
thoughts  as  he  turns  away  from  the  fated  spot  and 
sets  off  up  the  Orange  Plank  Road,  for  his  melan- 
choly heart  yearns  to  be  with  Lee  and  his  valiant 
corps  once  more.  And  now  he  has  reached  the  junc- 
tion of  the  Orange  and  the  Brock  roads  which  is 
in  the  midst  of  woods;  the  stars,  although  hazy  and 
dim,  light  the  crossing  a little  and  he  halts.  Down 
the  latter,  up  which  he  rode  on  his  historic  march, 
he  looks  long  and  wistfully;  is  he  expecting  his  old 
corps  again?  Deep  is  the  silence  in  the  slumbering 
woods.  A little  bird  in  its  dreams  utters  one  strain 
of  its  lonely  wood-note  and  then  is  still;  and  now 
instead  of  oncoming  troops  across  the  Brock  Road 
from  east  to  west,  the  direction  Stonewall  is  going, 
and  with  the  soft  pace  of  a phantom,  flits  the  cowled 
figure,  turning  her  face  hastily  toward  him  as  she 
enters  the  sullen  oaks.  With  a sigh  he  moves  on  to- 
ward Parker’s  store,  and  when  he  draws  near  where 
Mahone’s  men  fired  on  Longstreet,  something  on  his 
left  attracts  his  attention  and  he  pauses  suddenly. 

Whose  hands  are  those  pulling  aside  the  bushes 
and  overhanging  limbs?  Lo!  there  again  is  the 
Spirit  of  the  Wilderness,  with  the  same  ominous, 
relentless  look.  A moment’s  glance  is  exchanged. 
The  figure  withdraws,  the  branches  swing  back  into 


124  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


place,  and  the  ghost  of  Stonewall  moves  on,  with 
troubled  brow. 

Hark!  he  hears  something.  It  draws  nearer,  and 
now  we  can  distinguish  footsteps;  they  sound  as  if 
they  were  dragging  chains  after  them  through  the 
dead  rustling  leaves.  Presently,  off  from  the  roadside 
where  two  oaks  press  back  the  tangle,  admitting  a 
bit  of  starlight,  Stonewall  sees  a gaunt,  hollow- 
breasted, wicked-eyed,  sunken-cheeked  being.  Be- 
hold, she  is  addressing  him!  “Stonewall,  I am  Slav- 
ery and  sorely  wounded.  Can  you  do  nothing  to  stay 
the  Spirit  of  the  Wilderness  that,  in  striking  at  me, 
struck  you  down?” 

“No,  no,”  says  the  ghostly  commander,  impa- 
tiently waving  the  staring  creature  away.  “Your 
day,  thank  God!  has  come.  To-morrow  morning 
Lee  will  strike,  but  it  will  not  be  for  you.” 

“And  is  this  history?”  comes  a peevish  voice  from 
the  general  level  of  those  who  are  as  yet  only  dimly 
conscious  of  the  essence  and  final  embodiment  of 
History.  Yes,  it  is  a little  sheaf  out  of  a field  lying 
in  one  of  its  high  and  beautifully  remote  valleys. 

Such  then  is  the  chronicle  of  the  first  day  of  the 
campaign.  And  now  it  is  midnight;  all  save  the 
sentinels  are  asleep,  and  the  whippoorwills  are  still 
chanting. 


V 


At  Warren’s  headquarters  we  breakfasted  early,  and 
at  5 a.  m.,  just  as  the  sun  had  cleared  the  tree-tops, 
he  sent  the  following  despatch  to  Humphreys : — 

“My  command  is  just  starting  out.  As  I have  but 
little  ways  to  move,  I keep  my  trains  with  me  in- 
stead of  sending  them  around  by  the  plank  road, 
which  I fear  might  interfere  with  the  main  trains, 
which  I understand  to  be  those  to  be  assembled  at 
Todd’s  Tavern.” 

A half-hour  later  he  notified  Getty,  camped  back 
at  Flat  Run  on  the  Germanna  Road,  that  Griffin,  in 
conformity  with  Meade’s  orders  of  the  night  before, 
would  hold  the  Pike  till  he  (Getty)  got  up.  At  the 
same  time  he  sent  word  to  the  officer  in  charge  of 
the  pickets  in  Griffin’s  front  not  to  withdraw  till  the 
column  got  well  in  the  road  on  the  line  of  march  to 
Parker’s  store.  He  then  mounted  his  big,  logy  dapple- 
gray,  wearing  as  usual  his  yellow  sash  of  a major- 
general,  and  started  to  follow  Crawford  and  Wads- 
worth, who  from  his  camp  he  could  see  were  already 
under  way,  passing  the  Lacy  house.  Just  as  he  was 
reaching  the  Pike,  — we  had  not  left  camp  three 
minutes,  — a staff  officer,  riding  rapidly,  met  him 
and,  saluting,  said  that  General  Griffin  had  sent  him 


126  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


to  tell  General  Warren  that  the  enemy  was  advancing 
in  force  on  his  pickets. 

I do  not  believe  that  Warren  ever  had  a greater 
surprise  in  his  life,  but  his  thin,  solemn,  darkly  sallow 
face  was  nowhere  lightened  by  even  a transitory 
flare  — Hancock’s  open,  handsome  countenance 
would  have  been  all  ablaze.  There  was  with  Warren 
at  this  time,  as  I recall,  only  Colonel  Locke,  Dr. 
Winne,  the  general’s  brother  Robert,  and  Lieutenant 
Higbee,  an  aide  who  had  been  on  his  staff  for  a good 
while,  and  who  was  a very  brave  man.  Warren  first 
turned  to  me  and  said,  “Tell  Griffin  to  get  ready  to 
attack  at  once”;  then,  for  some  reason,  perhaps 
because  of  my  youth  and  inexperience,  he  told  Higbee 
to  take  the  message,  and  at  once  notified  Meade  as 
follows : — 

“6  a.  m.  General  Griffin  has  just  sent  in  word  that 
a force  of  the  enemy  has  been  reported  to  him  coming 
down  the  turnpike.  The  foundation  of  the  report  is 
not  given.  Until  it  is  more  definitely  ascertained  no 
change  will  take  place  in  the  movements  ordered.” 

(And  now  he  yielded  to  one  of  his  weaknesses, 
referred  to  by  Grant  in  his  Memoirs,  namely,  inform- 
ing his  commanding  officer  what  should  be  done. 
He  had  another  and  more  fatal  one,  that  of  comment- 
ing at  times  unfavorably,  regardless  of  who  were 
present,  on  the  orders  he  received.) 

“Such  demonstrations  are  to  be  expected,  and 
show  the  necessity  for  keeping  well  closed  and  pre- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  127 


pared  to  face  Mine  Run  and  meet  an  attack  at  a 
moment’s  notice.  G.  K.  Warren.” 

Before  the  above  despatch  left  headquarters  an- 
other aide  came  in  and  Warren  added:  — 

“6.20.  Bartlett  (Griffin’s  advanced  brigade)  sends 
in  word  that  the  enemy  has  a line  of  infantry  out 
advancing.  We  shall  soon  know  more.  I have 
arranged  for  Griffin  to  hold  the  pike  till  the  6th  corps 
comes  up  at  all  events.  G.  K.  W.” 

He  then  sent  this  order  to  Griffin : — 

“Push  a force  out  at  once  against  the  enemy,  and 
see  what  force  he  has.” 

Even  Warren  had  not  quite  thrown  off  the  delu- 
sion that  Lee  was  falling  back;  but  within  three  hours, 
like  a fog,  it  lifted,  not  only  from  his  mind  but  from 
Meade’s  and  Grant’s  also. 

Griffin,  on  receipt  of  these  orders,  forwarded  them 
to  Bartlett,  who  sent  at  once  the  Eighteenth  Massa- 
chusetts and  Eighty-third  Pennsylvania,  the  former 
on  the  right,  the  latter  on  the  left  of  the  Pike.  When 
they  reached  the  pickets,  still  on  their  posts  of  the  night 
before,  skirmishers  were  thrown  out,  who  promptly 
engaged  those  of  Ewell,  driving  them  back,  and 
quickly  ascertaining  that  the  enemy  was  there  in 
strong  force.  On  this  reconnaissance  Charles  H.  Wil- 
son of  Wrentham,  Company  I,  Eighteenth  Massachu- 
setts, was  killed,  the  first  to  fall  in  the  campaign.  He 
was  only  eighteen  years  old,  and  the  son  of  a farmer. 

In  a short  time  after  these  orders  were  sent  to 


128  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Griffin,  Meade  with  his  staff  came  up  hurriedly  to 
Warren,  and,  hearing  what  he  had  to  say,  exclaimed 
emphatically,  “If  there  is  to  be  any  fighting  this  side 
of  Mine  Run,  let  us  do  it  right  off.” 

I have  seen  many  statements  as  to  what  Meade 
said,  but  I was  within  ten  feet  of  him,  and  recall  with 
distinctness  his  face,  his  language,  and  its  tones. 
Meade  then  sent  this  despatch  back  to  Grant,  who 
was  still  at  his  camp  waiting  for  Burnside.  It  was 
received  at  7.30  a.  m. 

“The  enemy  have  appeared  in  force  on  the  pike, 
and  are  now  reported  forming  line  of  battle  in  front 
of  Griffin’s  division,  5th  Corps.  I have  directed  Gen. 
Warren  to  attack  them  at  once  with  his  whole  force. 
Until  this  movement  of  the  enemy  is  developed,  the 
march  of  the  corps  must  be  suspended.  I have, 
therefore,  sent  word  to  Hancock  not  to  advance 
beyond  Todd’s  Tavern.  I think  the  enemy  is  trying 
to  delay  our  movements  and  will  not  give  battle, 
but  of  this  we  shall  soon  see.”  (General  Meade,  may 
I ask  when  Lee  ever  declined  battle  with  you?  All 
your  doubts  on  this  point  will  soon  be  removed, 
however;  for  he  is  right  on  you  and  means  to  deliver 
a blow,  if  he  can,  that  will  send  you  reeling,  as  he 
sent  Hooker,  back  across  the  Rapidan.) 

Grant,  on  receipt  of  this  unexpected  news  from 
Meade,  replied,  “If  any  opportunity  presents  itself 
for  pitching  into  a part  of  Lee’s  army,  do  so  without 
giving  time  for  disposition.” 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  129 


Meanwhile  Warren,  having  hurried  aides  off  to 
Crawford  and  Wadsworth,  the  former  to  halt,  the 
latter  to  move  up  on  Griffin’s  left,  established  his 
headquarters  at  the  Lacy  house.  From  there  he  sent 
this  message,  dated  7.50  a.  m.,  to  Griffin:  — 

“Have  your  whole  division  prepared  to  move  for- 
ward and  attack  the  enemy,  and  await  further  in- 
structions while  the  other  troops  are  forming.” 

He  then  rode,  and  I went  with  him,  to  Wadsworth, 
who  had  halted  about  a mile  beyond  the  Lacy  house. 
Where  we  overtook  him  there  was  an  old  chimney 
that  probably  marked  the  home  of  one  of  Major 
Lacy’s  overseers.  I remember  it  very  distinctly,  for 
one  of  Warren’s  staff  having  observed  that  a bare 
little  knoll  near  the  chimney  would  be  a good  place 
for  a battery,  he  observed  coolly  that  when  he 
wanted  advice  from  his  staff  he  would  ask  for  it. 
I have  always  thought  that  it  was  an  uncalled-for 
snub  on  the  part  of  Warren,  but  a great  deal  must  be 
excused  when  a battle  is  pending;  I doubt,  however, 
if  Grant  or  Sedgwick  or  Thomas  under  any  stress 
ever  spoke  to  a young  officer  or  soldier  in  a way  or 
tone  that  made  him  uncomfortable. 

Wadsworth  was  just  forming  his  division,  to  the 
right  of  the  Parker’s  Store  Road  which  at  that  point 
and  for  quite  a distance  runs  almost  west,  following 
up  the  main  branch  of  Wilderness  Run.  Warren  said 
to  him,  “Find  out  what  is  in  there,”  indicating  the 
deep  woods.  And  did  they  find  something?  Yes,  in- 


130  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


deed  they  did  — many  their  eternal  rest.  We  then 
went  back  to  the  Lacy  house,  and  Warren  soon  set 
off  to  see  Griffin. 

By  the  time  Warren’s  aide  overtook  Crawford  (it 
was  just  eight  o’clock),  the  head  of  his  division  had 
reached  the  Chewning  farm  which  lies  somewhat 
beyond  where  Wadsworth  was  forming.  The  ground 
from  the  run  rises  up  sharply  to  its  rather  high, 
dipping,  and  swerving  fields,  which,  when  I saw  them 
last,  were  beginning  to  clothe  themselves  in  spring- 
time green.  The  heaving  plateau  is  on  swings  east- 
ward around  the  valley  of  Wilderness  Run,  like  the 
rim  of  a great  kettle,  falling  away  at  last  in  the  angle 
between  the  Brock  and  the  Plank  roads  into  many 
zigzag,  swampy  ravines,  the  heads  of  the  easterly 
branches  of  the  Run. 

Two  roads  connect  Chewning’s  with  the  Plank, 
one  through  the  woods  to  the  Store  about  a mile 
south;  the  other  follows  the  rim  of  the  kettle  for 
a while  and  then  breaks  away  to  the  Widow  Tapp’s. 
Let  any  one  stand  on  the  rolling  fields  now  and  he 
will  recognize  at  once  their  value  to  us  could  we  have 
held  them. 

In  acknowledging  the  receipt  of  Warren’s  orders, 
Crawford  said : — 

“There  is  brisk  skirmishing  at  the  store  between 
our  own  and  the  enemy’s  cavalry.  I am  halted  in  a 
good  position.” 

The  cavalry  he  saw  were  the  Fifth  New  York, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  131 


five  hundred  strong,  whom  Wilson  had  left  to  hold 
the  place  till  Crawford  should  arrive.  They  were  not 
skirmishing,  however,  with  cavalry,  but  with  the 
head  of  Heth’s  division  of  Hill’s  corps  — the  same 
one  that  opened  the  battle  of  Gettysburg.  And  here 
is  what  had  happened.  On  Wilson’s  departure  for 
Craig’s  Meeting  House,  Colonel  Hammond,  a very 
gallant  man,  in  command  of  the  Fifth  New  York, 
sent  two  companies  under  Captain  Barker  of  Crown 
Point,  New  York,  to  scout  the  road  toward  Verdier- 
ville.  He  had  not  covered  more  than  two  miles  before 
he  ran  up  against  Heth  marching  leisurely  in  column. 
The  Captain,  a resolute  man  as  you  can  readily 
see  on  looking  into  his  steady  dark  eyes,  dismounted 
his  men,  formed  them  as  skirmishers  across  the  road, 
and  notified  Hammond,  who  at  once  came  up  with 
the  rest  of  the  regiment.  Of  course  they  were 
driven  back,  but  not  without  making  a fine  stub- 
born resistance  and  meeting  with  heavy  losses.  By 
the  time  Crawford  reached  Chewning’s,  Hammond 
had  been  pushed  to  Parker’s  store.  Roebling  then 
with  Crawford  hastened  to  the  store,  and  Ham- 
mond told  him  that  perhaps  he  could  hold  on  fifteen 
minutes  longer,  whereupon  Roebling  hurried  back 
to  Crawford;  but  it  was  too  late  for  him  to  inter- 
pose behind  Hammond.  Moreover,  a heavy  skir- 
mish line  from  Heth’s  leading  brigade  was  being 
thrown  out  toward  him.  He  formed  one  brigade 
facing  toward  the  store,  the  other  west,  and  by  that 


132  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


time  Hammond  had  been  driven  from  the  store  and 
Heth  with  his  main  column  was  slowly  following 
him,  unmindful  apparently  of  Crawford’s  position 
on  his  flank. 

When  Crawford’s  despatch,  quoted  above,  reached 
corps  headquarters,  Warren  was  still  with  Griffin; 
and  it  was  sent  to  Meade,  who,  judging  from  the 
indorsement  he  put  upon  it, — “I  have  sent  to 
Wilson,  who  I hope  will  himself  find  out  the  move- 
ment of  the  enemy,”  — was  not  even  at  that  early 
hour  — it  was  just  after  nine  — in  a very  good 
humor. 

Had  Warren’s  orders  to  Crawford  been  delayed 
twenty  or  thirty  minutes  in  delivery,  the  entire  day’s 
operations  would  have  been  changed,  for  his  advance 
would  have  brought  him  into  immediate  contact  with 
the  Confederate  infantry  and  Lee’s  plans  would  have 
been  disclosed  at  once.  It  is  all  conjecture  what  would 
have  been  the  moves  Grant  would  have  made  in  that 
case,  but  the  chances  are,  however,  that  Hancock 
would  have  been  diverted  to  the  junction  of  the 
Brock  and  Plank  roads;  that  Getty  would  have  been 
pushed  immediately  to  the  Chewning  farm,  and  with 
Hancock  forcing  his  way  to  Parker’s  store,  and  those 
open  fields  firmly  in  our  possession,  it  would  have 
made  Lee’s  position  very  critical.  If  Warren,  after 
giving  Wadsworth  his  orders  to  find  out  what  was 
in  the  woods  to  the  left  of  Griffin,  had  continued 
up  the  road  to  Crawford,  his  quick  eye  would  have 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  133 


taken  in  the  strength  and  importance  of  the  Chewn- 
ing  plateau  at  a glance,  and  he  would  have  repeated 
his  brilliant  coup  on  Round  Top  by  bringing  Wads- 
worth right  up  to  hold  it  as  he  had  brought  up 
O’Rorke.  But  that  was  not  to  be;  fate  had  decided 
that  Lee  and  not  Grant  was  to  hold  these  fields. 

Warren,  on  reaching  Griffin,  impressed  with  the 
seriousness  of  the  situation  as  he  saw  it  in  front  of 
him  and  practically  ignorant  of  that  in  front  of 
Crawford,  ordered  Wadsworth  to  connect  with 
Griffin’s  left  and  Crawford  to  join  Wadsworth’s  left 
as  quickly  as  possible.  When  this  order  came  to 
Crawford,  Roebling,  who  was  then  with  him,  sent 
in  all  haste  this  despatch  to  Warren : “It  is  of  vital 
importance  to  hold  the  field  where  General  Crawford 
is.  Our  whole  line  of  battle  is  turned  if  the  enemy 
get  possession  of  it.  There  is  a gap  of  half  a mile 
between  Wadsworth  and  Crawford.  He  cannot  hold 
the  line  against  attack.”  1 

Warren’s  only  reply  was  curt.  Crawford  was  to 
obey  the  orders  he  had  received.  Meanwhile,  Warren 
in  a despatch  dated  10.30  had  directed  Wadsworth 
to  “Push  forward  a heavy  line  of  skirmishers  followed 
by  your  line  of  battle,  and  attack  the  enemy  at  once 
and  push  him.  General  Griffin  will  also  attack.  Do 

1 I beg  to  acknowledge  my  obligations  to  Col.  Washington  A.  Roeb- 
ling, Warren’s  chief  of  staff,  for  the  valuable  aid  his  notes  have  given 
me  ; and  to  Prof.  Theodore  Lyman,  son  of  Col.  Theodore  Lyman, 
Meade’s  most  confidential  staff  officer,  who  has  allowed  me  to  consult 
his  gallant  father's  notes  of  the  battle. 


134  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


not  wait  for  him,  but  look  out  for  your  left  flank.” 
This  injunction  as  to  Wadsworth’s  left  flank  was 
obviously  due  to  Warren’s  fear  that,  owing  to  the 
character  of  the  country,  Crawford’s  division  might 
be  delayed  in  joining  him. 

This  order  to  Wadsworth  is  so  inconsistent  with 
what  actually  transpired  that  it  can  only  be  ac- 
counted for  by  the  fretful  nagging  which  had  be- 
gun on  Warren  from  headquarters,  and  by  the  fact 
that  Griffin,  Ayres,  and  Bartlett,  having  visited  their 
skirmish  lines  and  discovered  that  the  enemy  were 
in  strong  force,  were  averse  to  moving  unpreparedly, 
and  had  so  notified  him.  Colonel  Swan  of  Ayres’s 
staff,  whose  account  is  altogether  the  clearest  and 
most  comprehensive  yet  written  of  that  part  of  the 
field,  says  he  went  back  to  Warren  at  least  twice, 
at  Griffin’s  behest,  to  report  the  gravity  of  the  situa- 
tion, and  that  Warren  used  sharp  language  to  him 
the  second  time.  Colonel  Swan  says,  “I  remember 
my  indignation.  It  was  afterwards  a common  report 
in  the  army  that  Warren  had  just  had  unpleasant 
things  said  to  him  by  General  Meade,  and  that 
General  Meade  had  just  heard  the  bravery  of  his 
army  questioned.” 

The  ground  for  the  latter  might  have  been  some 
heedless  remark  from  one  of  Grant’s  aides  who  had 
come  with  him  from  the  West.  But  however  this 
may  be,  such  was  the  situation  and  its  feverishness 
at  eleven  o’clock  on  Warren’s  front.  It  should  be 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  135 


said  that  while  Wadsworth  and  Crawford  were  trying 
to  get  into  line  Griffin  had  thrown  up  some  pretty 
strong  breastworks,  for  he  was  feeling  the  weight  of 
the  force  in  his  front. 

And  now  let  us  leave  the  pestered  Warren  and  see 
what  was  going  on  elsewhere.  As  soon  as  Grant 
could  communicate  the  necessary  orders  to  Burn- 
side as  to  the  disposition  of  his  troops  at  the  ford,  he 
came  to  the  front  with  all  speed:  it  was  then  about 
nine  o’clock.  On  his  arrival  he  found  Meade  and 
Sedgwick  standing  near  the  Pike,  and  after  a short 
consultation  he  and  Meade  pitched  their  headquar- 
ters near  by,  on  a knoll  covered  with  pines  from  four 
to  seven  inches  in  diameter,  the  ground  strewn  with 
needles  and  bits  of  dead  limbs.  It  is  now  part  of  an 
open  leaning  field,  with  here  and  there  an  old  tree 
dreaming  of  the  past;  and  nearly  opposite,  on  the 
Pike,  is  a little  frame  chapel,  its  bell  on  Sunday 
mornings  pealing  softly  over  it. 

They  had  barely  dismounted  before  news  of  im- 
portance besides  Crawford’s  first  despatch  came  in. 
Captain  Michler  of  the  engineers,  whom  Meade  had 
sent  to  reconnoitre  to  the  right  of  Griffin,  had  been 
suddenly  fired  on  while  making  his  way  through  the 
thickety  heads  of  Caton’s  Run.  After  satisfying  him- 
self that  trouble  was  brewing,  he  hurried  down  the 
Flat  Run  Road  to  its  junction  with  that  from  Ger- 
manna,  and  notified  Meade  of  the  situation.  Wright, 
with  his  division  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  was  moving 


136  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


along  unconscious  of  danger;  but  as  soon  as  he 
heard  Michler’s  story  he  formed  his  division,  facing 
it  west,  and  soon  orders  came  to  move  up  and  join 
the  right  of  Griffin.  He  had  to  advance  through 
about  the  most  broken  and  confusing  district  of  the 
Wilderness;  his  left,  under  Upton,  having  to  cross 
all  the  branches  of  Caton’s  Run,  which  are  densely 
packed  with  bushes,  vines,  and  low-limbed  trees. 

Meanwhile,  to  the  wonder  of  headquarters,  no 
news  had  come  from  Wilson;  but  it  is  easy  of  expla- 
nation. Not  having  received  counter-instructions 
and  the  enemy  having  made  no  demonstration,  he 
had  set  off  promptly  for  Craig’s  Meeting  House  on 
the  Catharpin  Road.  His  division  got  there  at  eight 
o’clock;  and  shortly  after  its  leading  brigade  engaged 
Rosser  and  drove  him  westward  several  miles.  Rosser 
was  soon  reinforced,  and  pushing  Wilson  back  got 
possession  of  the  road  to  Parker’s  store,  thus  cutting 
him  off  from  communicating  with  Meade. 

Every  little  while,  however,  as  the  morning  had 
worn  on,  wounded  men  had  come  down  Wilderness 
Run  from  the  gallant  Hammond’s  command,  all 
telling  the  same  story  of  the  advance  of  Hill  toward 
the  Brock  Road.  Meade  realized  his  danger;  with 
the  junction  of  the  Brock  and  Plank  roads  in  Lee’s 
possession,  Warren’s  position  would  be  turned  and 
Hancock  at  Todd’s  Tavern  completely  isolated  from 
the  other  corps.  So  about  half-past  ten  Getty,  who 
had  been  lying  near  headquarters,  with  the  third 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  137 


division  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  — waiting,  shall  I say,  for 
the  delusion  to  lift  that  Lee  was  retreating?  — was 
ordered  to  move  thither  with  all  haste,  and  head  off 
Hill.  At  the  same  time  Hancock,  who,  dismounted, 
was  resting  in  a pine  grove  beyond  Todd’s  Tav- 
ern, was  told  to  come  up  without  delay  and  support 
Getty. 

Meanwhile  Winne  and  the  other  surgeons  were 
busy  locating  their  hospitals  and  getting  ready  for 
what  they  knew  was  coming.  And  by  ten  o’clock 
the  yellow  flags  of  the  first,  second,  and  third  di- 
visions of  the  Fifth  Corps  were  flying  on  the  ridge 
east  of  Wilderness  Run;  that  of  the  third  was  first 
near  the  Lacy  house,  but  later  moved  back  with  the 
rest;  those  of  Wright’s  and  Rickett’s  divisions  of  the 
Sixth  Corps  were  behind  them  respectively  to  the 
east  of  the  Germanna  Road;  that  of  Getty,  and  later 
those  of  Hancock’s  corps,  were  pitched  near  Lewis 
Run  among  the  fields  of  the  Carpenter  farm,  which 
when  I saw  them  last  were  in  blading  corn. 

Sheridan  had  made  an  early  start  for  Hamilton’s 
Crossing,  but  finding  he  was  on  a wild-goose  chase, 
turned  back  toward  Todd’s  Tavern,  and,  fortunately, 
his  leading  division  under  Gregg  reached  there  just 
in  time  to  relieve  Wilson,  who  after  severe  fighting 
had  been  driven  rapidly  by  Rosser  and  Fitz  Lee 
from  the  right  of  Lee’s  advance. 

The  absence  of  any  news  from  Wilson,  the  threat- 
ened danger  on  the  Plank  and  Brock  roads,  and  the 


138  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


delay  of  Warren,  all  added  to  the  intensity  of  the 
situation;  and  impatience  at  Meade’s  and  Grant’s 
headquarters  grew  apace  as  the  sun  rose  higher. 

Again  and  again  inquiries  were  made  of  Warren 
when  Griffin  would  move,  and  each  time  with  more 
edge,  for  no  one  at  headquarters  shared  his  conviction 
that  the  situation  called  for  a thoroughly  organ- 
ized and  formidable  attack;  why,  it  was  only  a rear 
guard!  Moreover,  had  any  one  of  the  eager,  self- 
sufficient  headquarters  staff  tried  to  put  a division 
or  even  a regiment  in  line,  he  would  soon  have  real- 
ized the  difficulties  and  would  have  had  abundant 
charity  for  Warren.  It  is  true  that  the  delay  that 
morning  was  almost  inexplicable.  But  once  a division 
left  the  roads  or  fields  it  disappeared  utterly,  and  its 
commander  could  not  tell  whether  it  was  in  line  with 
the  others  or  not.  As  it  turned  out,  they  were  almost 
as  disconnected  when  they  struck  the  enemy  as  if 
they  had  been  marching  in  the  dark.  Yet  it  took 
nearly  four  hours  to  get  ready  to  form,  and  when  the 
orders  came  to  go  ahead,  divisions  were  still  looking 
for  each  others’  flanks. 

By  half-past  eleven  Meade,  with  Heth  advancing 
every  minute  toward  the  Brock  Road,  could  stand 
the  delay  no  longer,  and,  whether  or  not  Wright  was 
abreast  with  Griffin,  “Send  him  ahead!”  was  the  firm 
command  from  headquarters. 

The  situation,  then,  on  our  side,  thirty  minutes 
before  the  battle  began,  is  as  follows:  Bartlett’s 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  139 


brigade  of  Griffin’s  division  is  forming  in  two  lines  of 
battle  on  the  south  of  the  Pike.  The  first  line  is  the 
Eighteenth  Massachusetts  and  Eighty-third  Penn- 
sylvania, the  latter  next  the  road;  the  second  line, 
the  One  Hundred  and  Eighteenth  Pennsylvania  and 
Twentieth  Maine,  the  First  Michigan  deployed  as 
skirmishers.  Ayres  is  moving  up  by  the  flank  of  regi- 
ments in  column  of  fours,  through  the  tangled  cedars 
and  pines  on  the  right  of  the  Pike,  the  One  Hundred 
and  Fortieth  New  York,  Pat  O’Rorke’s  old  regiment, 
on  the  left  of  the  first  line,  and  then  the  Regulars. 
In  the  second  line,  its  left  on  the  Pike,  is  the  One 
Hundred  and  Forty-sixth  New  York,  then  the  Ninety- 
first  and  One  Hundred  and  Fifty -fifth  Pennsylvania. 

Upton’s  men,  the  left  of  Wright’s  division  of  the 
Sixth  Corps,  are  elbowing  their  way  through  a tangle 
like  that  Ayres  is  -worming  his  way  through,  trying  to 
overtake  and  connect  with  him.  In  fact  when  I was 
there  last  spring  Upton’s  ground  seemed  to  me  the 
worse,  but  both  were  bad  enough.  Wright’s  second 
brigade,  made  up  entirely  of  troops  from  New  Jersey, 
is  on  Upton’s  right  and  across  the  Flat  Run  Road 
(they  too  were  in  the  network  of  undergrowth). 
Wright  himself  is  close  behind  them  on  the  road  and 
Sedgwick,  the  best  wheel  horse,  so  to  speak,  in  the 
army  team,  is  in  the  corner  of  the  old  Spottswood  field 
where  the  Flat  Run  Road  leaves  the  Germanna  Ford. 

Wadsworth,  mounted  on  his  iron  gray,  lighter  in 
color  than  Warren’s,  is  following  up  his  division  that 


140  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


is  trying  to  advance  in  line  of  battle  to  join  Bartlett’s 
left.  Cutler  is  on  the  right  with  the  Iron  Brigade,  the 
Twenty-fourth  Michigan  on  its  left.  Stone  is  in  the 
centre  of  the  division.  Rice  on  the  left.  Daniel  W. 
Taft,  a brave,  one-armed  Vermont  veteran,  who  was 
with  Rice  in  the  Ninety -fifth  New  York,  tells  me  that, 
as  they  advanced,  a wild  turkey,  the  first  and  only 
one  he  ever  saw,  broke  from  a thicket  ahead  of  them. 
I The  Maryland  brigade  of  Robinson’s  division  is  in 
reserve  behind  Stone,  Robinson’s  other  division 
ready  to  support  Griffin. 

Getty  at  the  head  of  his  division  has  reached  the 
junction  of  the  Brock  and  Plank  roads.  He  was 
there  just  in  time,  for  with  his  staff  and  escort,  al- 
though under  fire  of  the  tall  North  Carolinians  who 
had  driven  Hammond  back,  he  held  them  off  till 
Wheaton  coming  up  at  run  formed  across  the  Plank 
Road,  saving  the  key  of  the  battle-field.  There  were 
bodies  of  Confederate  dead  within  less  than  two 
hundred  feet  of  this  vital  point.  Hancock,  urged  by 
orders  from  Meade,  is  riding  rapidly  ahead  of  his 
corps  up  the  Brock  Road  to  join  Getty.  His  troops 
are  coming  on,  too,  as  fast  as  they  can,  sometimes 
at  double-quick,  but  all  are  greatly  delayed  by 
artillery,  trains,  and  horsemen,  the  road  being  very 
narrow  and  bordered  by  such  thick  woods  that  they 
cannot  draw  off  into  them  to  clear  the  way  for  the 
infantry. 

For  three  or  four  miles  this  side  of  Todd’s  Tavern 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  141 


the  road  is  packed  with  his  sweltering  troops,  for 
it  is  very  hot  in  the  still  woods.  The  main  heavy 
supply  trains  that  had  followed  Hancock’s  troops  to 
Todd’s  Tavern  have  faced  about  and  are  making  all 
speed  for  Chancellorsville,  where  the  artillery  re- 
serve is  going  into  park. 

Wilson  is  being  roughly  handled  but  his  pursuers 
are  suffering  too.  Sheridan,  under  a cloud  of  trail- 
ing dust,  is  returning  from  his  wild-goose  chase 
(and  by  the  way  he  had  the  effrontery  to  claim  that 
it  was  Meade’s  fault  and  not  his  that  the  march 
had  been  made, — in  fact,  his  orders  were  based 
on  his  own  report  of  the  location  of  the  Confeder- 
ate cavalry,  — which  if  borne  in  mind,  as  well  as 
Meade’s  temper,  may  account  in  part  for  the  char- 
acter of  their  future  relations).  At  headquarters, 
anxiety  with  Meade  and  Humphreys  is  increasing 
over  Hill’s  move  toward  the  Brock  Road.  The  eagle 
spirit  in  Meade  is  up,  and  a captious  wonder  per- 
vades his  and  Grant’s  staff  why  Warren  does  not  at- 
tack. No  one  seems  to  know  or  care  whether  Upton 
is  alongside  of  Griffin  or  not;  even  up  to  that  hour  a 
good  many  of  the  wise  ones  among  them  were  pretty 
sure  that  there  was  nothing  very  serious  in  front  of 
Warren. 

Burnside’s  corps  suffering  with  heat  is  marching 
as  fast  as  it  can  for  Germanna  Ford,  the  rear  of  the 
column,  Ferrero’s  colored  division,  is  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Rappahannock. 


142  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


The  batteries  in  the  Lacy  fields  and  on  the  over- 
looking ridge  east  of  Wilderness  Run  stand  hitched 
ready  to  move,  the  buglers  following  their  captains 
as  they  go  from  section  to  section  of  their  batteries, 
the  gunners  lying  down  or  leaning  against  their  well- 
loved pieces.  There  is  one  battery  close  behind 
Griffin.  Ammunition-wagons  from  the  various  sup- 
ply-trains have  drawn  out  and  taken  positions  as 
close  as  they  dare  to  their  respective  brigades.  The 
ambulances,  too,  have  come  forward  and  are  wait- 
ing for  their  pale  passengers. 

At  last  Meade’s  imperative  orders  have  reached 
Warren,  Griffin’s  lines  are  moving,  and  every  one 
at  headquarters  is  in  momentary  expectation  of 
hearing  the  first  volley.  One  who  has  never  been 
through  it  cannot  realize  the  tensity  of  that  hour  in 
the  Wilderness:  we  knew  it  was  the  beginning  of  the 
end,  victory  for  us  at  last  or  victory  for  them. 

Grant  is  sitting  with  his  back  against  a young  pine, 
whittling  and  smoking,  his  modest,  almost  plaintive, 
face  as  calm  as  though  he  were  sitting  on  a beach 
and  waves  were  breaking  softly  below  him.  The  sun 
is  in  the  meridian,  not  a cloud  marbles  the  sky,  and 
Wilderness  Run  is  glistening  down  through  the  fields. 
In  the  woods  not  a living  leaf  is  stirring,  and  the 
dead  ones  are  waiting  to  pillow  softly  the  maimed 
and  dying.  “The  mortally  wounded  will  be  so 
thirsty!”  says  a spring  beauty  blooming  on  the  bank 
of  the  little  run  that  crosses  the  Pike  in  front  of 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  143 


Griffin.  “And  some  of  them  I know  will  cry  for 
water,”  observes  a violet  sadly.  “And  if  they  do,  I 
wish  I had  wings,  for  I ’d  fly  to  every  one  of  them,” 
exclaims  the  brooklet.  “We  know  you  would,  sweet- 
heart,” reply  violet  and  spring  beauty  to  their  light- 
hearted companion  of  the  solitude.  “And  if  one  of 
them  dies  under  me.  I’ll  toll  every  bell  that  hangs 
in  my  outstretched,  blooming  branches,”  declares  a 
giant  huckleberry -bush  warmly.  “But  hush!  hush!” 
cries  the  bush,  “here  they  comel’k 


VI 


And  now  let  us  take  a quick  survey  of  what  had  gone 
on  meanwhile  in  Lee’s  lines.  Lee  himself  with  a 
blithe  heart  had  breakfasted  early  at  his  camp  near 
Verdierville  on  the  Plank  Road.  At  eight  o’clock  the 
night  before,  he  had  sent  this  despatch  to  Ewell 
through  his  Adjutant-General,  Taylor:  “He  wishes 
you  to  be  ready  to  move  early  in  the  morning.  If 
the  enemy  moves  down  the  river  (that  is,  toward 
Fredericksburg)  he  wishes  to  push  on  after  him.  If 
he  comes  this  way,  we  will  take  our  old  line  [that  is, 
the  one  of  the  autumn  before  at  Mine  Run].  The 
general’s  desire  is  to  bring  him  to  battle  as  soon  now 
as  possible.” 

The  reason  for  bringing  Grant  to  battle  at  once 
may  have  been  strengthened  by  a despatch  that  he 
had  received  from  Longstreet  during  the  forenoon, 
in  response  to  one  he  had  sent  him  as  to  Grant’s 
movements.  “I  fear,”  says  Longstreet,  “that  the 
enemy  is  trying  to  draw  us  down  to  Fredericksburg, 
Can’t  we  threaten  his  rear  so  as  to  stop  his  move? 
We  should  keep  away  from  there  unless  we  can  put 
a force  to  hold  every  force  at  West  Point  in  check.” 
Longstreet  doubtless  had  in  mind  the  possibility  of 
Butler’s  command,  then  organized  at  Fort  Munroe, 
being  carried  to  the  mouth  of  the  Pamunkey. 


\ 


) 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  145 


Heth  and  Wilcox,  who  had  bivouacked  on  the 
Plank  Road,  the  former  this  side  of  Lee,  the  latter 
beyond,  were  setting  out  leisurely  for  Parker’s  store. 
Anderson’s,  Hill’s  other  division,  was  still  back  on 
the  upper  side  of  the  Rapidan,  the  other  side  of 
Orange  Court  House,  but  under  orders  to  come  for- 
ward. Ramseur  of  Rodes’s  division,  Ewell’s  corps, 
who  with  his  own  brigade  and  three  regiments  of 
Pegram’s  had  been  left  to  resist  any  crossing  between 
Rapidan  station  and  Mitchell’s  ford,  was  making 
a reconnoissance  toward  Culpeper,  so  completely 
had  his  old  West  Point  friend  Custer  bluffed  him  all 
through  the  afternoon  while  we  were  moving. 

Longstreet,  having  marched  from  four  o’clock  of 
the  previous  day  and  a good  share  of  the  night,  was 
now  at  Brock’s  Bridge  over  the  North  Anna  and 
already  under  way  again.  Stuart,  Rosser,  and  Fitz 
Lee  were  assembling  their  cavalry  beyond  Craig’s 
Meeting  House,  — at  least  twenty  odd  miles  from 
Hamilton’s  Crossing,  where  the  general  orders  of 
the  night  before  had  placed  them.  R.  D.  Johnston’s 
brigade  of  Ewell’s  corps  which  had  lately  been  sent 
to  guard  the  bridges  over  the  North  and  South 
Anna  were  on  their  way  back  stepping  fast:  they 
claim  they  made  the  march  of  66  miles  in  23  hours, 
but  I don’t  believe  it.  That  kind  of  time  can  be 
made  going  from  a fight  but  not  to  it. 

When  dawn  came  on,  it  found  Ewell’s  corps  arous- 
ing; all  of  his  troops  save  Rodes  and  Ramseur  were 


146  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


along  the  Pike,  Edward  Johnson’s  division  in  ad- 
vance and  within  a few  miles  of  Griffin.  The  First 
North  Carolina  cavalry,  whom  Wilson  had  scattered 
away  from  Germanna  Ford  in  the  morning,  by 
dusk  had  re-collected  and  gone  on  picket  ahead  and 
around  Ewell’s  infantry;  and  just  after  sunrise  they 
began  feeling  their  way  down  the  Pike,  toward 
Warren.  If  they  had  held  back  a while,  Griffin’s 
pickets  would  all  have  been  withdrawn  to  rejoin  the 
moving  column,  and  Ewell  could  have  sprung  on 
Warren  most  viciously. 

Major  Stiles,  in  his  “Four  Years  under  Marse 
Robert,”  a book  of  living  interest,  gives  us  a glimpse 
of  the  early  morning  up  the  Pike.  He  says:  “I  found 
him  [General  Ewell]  crouching  over  a low  fire  at  a 
cross  roads  in  the  forest,  no  one  at  the  time  being 
nigh  except  two  horses,  and  a courier  who  had 
charge  of  them,  and  the  two  crutches.  The  old  hero, 
who  had  lost  a leg  in  battle,  could  not  mount  his 
horse  alone.  The  general  was  usually  very  thin  and 
pale,  unusually  so  that  morning,  but  bright-eyed  and 
alert.  He  was  accustomed  to  ride  a flea-bitten  gray 
named  Rifle,  who  was  singularly  like  him,  if  a horse 
can  be  like  a man.  He  asked  me  to  dismount  and  take 
a cup  of  coffee  with  him.”  Ewell  told  the  major, 
while  they  were  drinking  their  coffee,  that  his  orders 
were  to  go  right  down  the  road  and  “strike  the 
enemy  wherever  I could  find  him.” 

'<  About  eight  a.  m.,  after  his  corps  was  moving. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  147 


Ewell  sent  Major  Campbell  Brown  of  his  staff  to 
report  his  position  to  General  Lee.  Lee  sent  word 
back  for  him  to  regulate  his  march  down  the  Pike  by 
that  of  Hill  on  the  Plank  Road,  whose  progress  he 
could  tell  by  the  firing  at  the  head  of  his  column;  and 
that  he  preferred  not  to  bring  on  a general  engage- 
ment before  Longstreet  came  up.  Either  Colonel 
Taylor  had  misunderstood  Lee,  or  Lee  for  some  rea- 
son had  changed  his  mind.  Had  he  not  done  so  and 
tried  to  put  his  plans  of  the  night  before  in  execution, 
another  story  would  certainly  have  been  written 
of  the  campaign.  Hancock  would  have  been  stopped 
long  before  he  had  made  Todd’s  Tavern,  and  his 
corps  would  have  been  swung  over  into  the  Brock 
Road,  which  would  have  effectually  stalled  off  Hill. 
And  although  Ewell  might  at  first  have  staggered 
Warren  and  Sedgwick,  he  never  could  have  driven 
them  from  the  ridge  east  of  Wilderness  Run  where 
they  would  have  been  rallied;  for  Hunt  would  have 
had  it  lined  with  artillery,  and  it  would  have  been 
another  Cemetery  Ridge  for  the  Confederate  in- 
fantry. That  the  chances  of  war  are  fickle,  I own, 
but  I sincerely  believe  that  if  Lee  had  struck  at  us 
early  that  morning  he  would  have  suffered  a terrible 
defeat  before  sundown,  and,  instead  of  the  blithe 
heart  at  sunrise,  when  twilight  came  on  he  would 
have  carried  a heavy  one.  For  Mahone,  Anderson, 
Ramseur,  Johnston,  and  Longstreet  would  have  been 
beyond  reach  to  give  a helping  hand  to  Ewell  and 


148  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Hill.  So  I am  inclined  to  think  that  Colonel  Taylor 
misunderstood  Lee:  which  in  a measure  is  confirmed 
by  his  moves  that  morning,  all  pointing  to  a manifest 
desire  not  to  precipitate  a general  engagement.  For 
does  any  one  suppose  that  Hammond’s  five  hundred 
men  could  have  held  Hill’s  veterans  back  had  they 
known  that  Lee  wanted  them  to  go  ahead?  Strangely 
and  interestingly  enough,  Lee’s  chances,  owing  to 
changing  his  mind,  were  growing  better  and  better 
the  farther  and  farther  away  Hancock  and  Wilson 
were  moving  from  the  strategic  key  of  the  field.  But 
the  truth  is  that  Lee  that  forenoon  knew  but  little 
more  about  Grant’s  movements  than  Grant  knew 
about  his. 

However  that  may  be,  Ewell,  after  hearing  from 
Lee,  regulated  his  march  accordingly,  slowing  up 
Jones,  of  Johnson’s  division,  who  was  in  the  lead, 
and  who  had  felt  Griffin’s  and  Wadsworth’s  videttes 
south  of  the  Pike,  having  pushed  the  latter  nearly 
to  the  western  branch  of  'Wilderness  Run.  When  he 
got  to  the  Flat  Run  Road  which  crosses  the  Pike 
diagonally,  as  will  be  seen  by  consulting  the  map, 
Ewell  sent  the  Stonewall  brigade  (James  A.  Walker, 
who  must  not  be  confounded  with  Henry  H.  Walker 
of  Hill’s  corps)  down  it  to  the  left.  Soon,  through  his 
field-glasses,  from  one  of  the  ridges  that  straggle 
across  the  Pike  just  this  side  of  its  intersection  by 
the  Flat  Run  Road,  he  caught  sight  of  Getty  threading 
his  way  up  across  the  leaning  field  east  of  Wilderness 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  149 


Run.  Thereupon  he  halted  Jones  and  sent  Colonel 
Pendleton  of  his  staff  to  report  his  position  to  Lee 
and  ask  instructions;  and  no  doubt  Pendleton  told 
Lee  about  the  column  of  troops  seen  moving  toward 
the  junction  of  the  Brock  and  Plank  roads.  While 
Pendleton  was  away,  and  our  people  showing  more 
and  more  activity  and  earnestness,  Johnson,  com- 
manding Ewell’s  leading  division,  began  to  arrange 
his  brigades  in  line  as  they  came  up. 

Now  in  those  days  there  was  an  old  field  (it  has 
since  grown  up)  about  five-eighths  of  a mile  east  of 
the  crossing  of  the  Pike  by  the  Flat  Run  Road.  It 
was  narrow,  deserted,  occupying  a depression  be- 
tween two  irregular  ridges,  and  extended  both  sides 
of  the  Pike  which  crossed  it  a little  diagonally  nearer 
its  southern  end.  The  east  and  west  sides  sloped 
down  to  a gully  in  the  middle,  the  scored-out  bed 
of  a once  trembling  primeval  wood-stream;  in  its 
palmy  days  the  Pike  crossed  it  on  a wooden  bridge. 
The  field  was  known  as  the  Saunders  or  Palmer  field, 
and  was  about  eight  hundred  yards  long  north  and 
south,  and  four  hundred  yards  wide.  It  was  about 
the  only  open,  sunshiny  spot  along  the  four  and  a 
half  to  seven  or  eight  miles  of  our  battle-line,  if  we 
include  Hancock’s  entrenchments  down  the  Brock 
Road.  The  last  crop  of  the  old  field  had  been  corn 
and  among  its  stubble  that  day  were  sown  the  seeds 
of  glory.  The  woods  were  thick  all  around  the  field, 
but  the  ground  east  and  north  of  it*  in  the  angle 


150  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


between  the  Pike  and  the  Flat  Run  Road  was  very 
broken,  its  low  humpy  ridges  cradling  a network  of 
marshy,  tangled  places,  the  birthplace  of  mute  lonely 
branches  of  Caton’s  Run,  and  everywhere  crowded 
with  cedars  and  stunted  pines.  In  truth,  I know  of 
no  place  in  the  Wilderness  where  nature  seemed 
more  out  of  humor  than  right  here  in  the  making 
of  it. 

Johnson  drew  Jones  back  to  the  west  side  of  the 
field,  his  left  resting  on  the  Pike,  his  line  of  battle 
stretching  off  into  the  woods.  He  posted  Steuart’s 
brigade  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  then  Walker’s 
and  then  Stafford’s  as  they  came  up;  their  fronts 
reaching  from  the  Pike  northward  almost,  if  not 
quite,  to  Flat  Run  itself. 

Millidge’s  battery  was  posted  at  the  junction  of 
the  roads.  Dole  and  Battle  were  getting  into  posi- 
tion on  the  right  of  Jones,  and  coming  on  behind 
them  was  Rodes.  J.  B.  Gordon,  the  eagle  of  Ewell’s 
corps,  was  coming  down  the  old  Pike,  ready  to  plunge 
wherever  the  smoke  of  battle  rose. 

Lee  repeated  to  Pendleton  the  same  instructions 
as  before,  not  to  bring  on  an  engagement  until  Long- 
street  was  up.  Obviously  Lee  had  greatly  under- 
estimated the  distance  Longstreet  had  to  cover. 
Pendleton  got  back  to  Ewell  about  11.30.  By  that 
time  Kirkland’s  brigade  of  Heth’s  division,  Hill’s 
corps,  followed  by  Cooke,  had  driven  Hammond 
almost  to  the  Brock  Road.  Scales  of  Wilcox’s  di- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  151 


vision  of  the  same  corps  was  standing  off  Crawford, 
while  Lane  and  Thomas  were  getting  into  position 
in  front  of  McCandless,  who  was  trying  to  connect 
with  Wadsworth.  Such  was  about  the  situation  of 
both  armies  at  11.30  a.  m. 

Griffin’s  and  the  right  of  Wadsworth’s  division 
formed  about  three-quarters  of  a mile  east  of  the  old 
field.  In  the  formation  for  the  advance,  Sweitzer’s 
brigade  of  Griffin’s  division  had  given  place  on  the 
left  of  Bartlett  to  Cutler,  of  Wadsworth’s  division, 
and  had  formed  in  reserve  behind  Bartlett.  On  Cut- 
ler’s left  was  Stone,  then  Rice.  The  Maryland  bri- 
gade of  Robinson’s  division  was  in  reserve  behind 
Stone  and  Rice.  From  the  Pike  to  the  left  of  McCand- 
less it  must  have  been  fully  a mile  and  three-quarters, 
and  all  through  thick  woods. 

Wadsworth’s  brigades  and  their  supports  were  or- 
dered by  Warren  to  move  by  the  compass  due  west. 
Now  a compass  is  a trusty  friend  and  has  guided 
many  a ship  steadfastly  and  truly  through  darkness 
and  storm  on  the  open  sea,  but  it  is  out  of  its  element 
and  worse  than  nothing  as  a guide  for  an  army 
fighting  in  woods  like  those  of  the  Wilderness.  It 
was  natural  though  for  Warren,  the  skillful  engineer, 
to  rely  upon  it,  but  under  the  circumstances,  and 
with  the  woods  as  they  were,  it  was  utterly  impracti- 
cable. The  first  one  hundred  yards  of  underbrush, 
and  then  one  of  those  briar-tangled  ravines,  and  all 
reliance  on  the  compass  was  gone.  Self -protection,  if 


152  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


nothing  else,  called  on  the  regiments  and  brigades  to 
try  to  keep  in  touch  with  each  other,  whatever  the 
compass  might  say.  As  a matter  of  fact,  only  one  of 
the  commands  was  guided  by  it,  — McCandless,  who 
had  the  opening  of  the  Chewning  fields  on  his  left 
to  help  him.  But  it  ended  in  taking  him  away  from 
everybody,  and  in  coming  mighty  near  to  causing 
him  to  lose  his  entire  brigade.  For  Wadsworth’s  peo- 
ple on  McCandless’s  right  naturally  swung  toward  the 
Pike,  thus  leaving  a wide  gap  between  him  and  Rice. 

Well,  as  already  stated,  when  they  began  to  move, 
it  was  almost  noon.  The  troops  tried  at  first  to 
advance  in  line  of  battle  from  the  temporary  works 
which  had  been  thrown  up  while  the  reconnaissances 
and  preparations  had  been  going  on;  but  owing  to 
the  character  of  the  woods,  they  soon  found  that  was 
out  of  the  question,  and  had  to  break  by  battalions 
and  wings  into  columns  of  fours.  So  by  the  time  they 
neared  the  enemy,  all  semblance  of  line  of  battle  was 
gone  and  there  were  gaps  everywhere  between  regi- 
ments and  brigades.  Regiments  that  had  started  in 
the  second  line  facing  west  found  themselves  facing 
north,  deploying  ahead  of  the  first  line.  As  an  ex- 
ample of  the  confusion,  the  Sixth  Wisconsin  had  been 
formed  behind  the  Seventh  Indiana,  with  orders  to 
follow  it  at  a distance  of  one  hundred  yards.  By  run- 
ning ahead  of  his  regiment,  the  colonel  of  the  Sixth 
managed  to  keep  the  Seventh  in  sight  till  they  were 
close  to  the  front;  but  when  the  firing  began,  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  153 


Seventh!  set  out  at  double-quick  for  the  enemy  and 
disappeared  in  a moment;  and  the  next  thing  was  an 
outburst  of  musketry  and  the  enemy  were  coming 
in  front  and  marching  by  both  flanks. 

But  there  was  almost  the  same  state  of  affairs  on 
the  other  side,  except  that  the  Confederates,  being 
more  used  to  the  woods,  observed  the  general  direc- 
tion better  and  handled  themselves  with  much  more 
confidence  and  initiative  than  ours,  when  detached 
from  their  fellows.  For  instance,  the  Forty -fifth 
North  Carolina,  of  Daniels’s  brigade,  having  lost 
all  connection  with  the  rest  of  its  brigade,  stumbled 
right  on  to  Stone  or  Rice,  and  before  they  knew  it 
were  within  a few  rods,  only  a thickety  depression 
between  them.  Ours  were  the  first  to  fire,  but  the 
aim  was  too  high  and  scarcely  any  one  hurt;  the 
return  volley,  however,  so  says  the  regiment’s  his- 
torian who  was  present,  was  very  fatal,  and  our  men 
broke,  leaving  a row  of  dead.  Cases  of  this  kind 
could  be  repeated  and  re-repeated  of  what  took 
place  in  the  Wilderness;  and  I am  free  to  say  that, 
as  I walked  through  the  woods  last  May,  looking  for 
the  old  lines,  more  than  once  I halted  with  a feeling 
that  some  spectral  figure,  one  of  those  thousands 
who  fell  there,  would  appear  suddenly  and  ask  me 
where  he  might  find  his  regiment.  As  a proof  of  the 
savage  and  unexpected  encounterings,  a line  of 
skeletons  was  found  just  after  the  war,  half-covered 
in  the  drifting  leaves,  where  some  command,  North- 


154  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


era  or  Southern,  met  with  a volley  like  that  of  the 
Forty-fifth  North  Carolina,  from  an  unseen  foe.  It 
is  the  holding  of  the  secrets  of  butchering  happenings 
like  these,  and  its  air  of  surprised  and  wild  curiosity 
in  whosoever  penetrates  the  solitude  and  breaks  its 
grim,  immeasurable  silence,  that  gives  the  Wilder- 
ness, I think,  its  deep  and  evoking  interest. 

The  woods  being  somewhat  easier  for  Bartlett’s 
troops  to  move  through  than  for  those  in  front  of 
Ayres,  he  gained  the  eastern  edge  of  the  old  field  quite 
a little  ahead.  His  first  line  no  sooner  came  out  into 
the  light  than  Jones,  from  the  woods  on  the  other 
side  of  the  field,  opened  on  it.  Our  men  dashed  down 
to  the  gully  and  then  up  the  sloping  side  at  them, 
and  at  once  became  hotly  engaged.  As  the  second 
line  cleared  the  woods,  Bartlett  rode  galloping  from 
the  Pike,  flourishing  his  sword  and  shouting,  “Come 
on,  boys,  let  us  go  in  and  help  them.” 

Meanwhile  Cutler,  on  Bartlett’s  left,  with  his  Iron 
Brigade,  made  up  of  western  regiments,  whose  mem- 
bers were  more  at  home  in  the  woods  than  their 
brothers  of  the  East,  had  gotten  considerably  ahead 
of  Bartlett’s  men,  and  swinging  more  and  more 
toward  the  Pike  at  every  step,  struck  Jones’s  and  the 
left  of  Dole’s  brigade,  and,  going  at  them  with  a cheer, 
smashed  through,  capturing  three  battle  flags  and 
several  hundred  prisoners.  In  this  attack  Battle’s  bri- 
gade directly  behind  Jones  was  so  severely  handled, 
also  by  Cutler  and  Bartlett,  that  it  fell  back  in 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  155 


great  confusion  with  Jones’s  broken  regiments  for 
a mile  or  more.  Dole’s  right  held  on,  and  Daniels, 
moving  up  and  going  in  on  his  left,  met  Stone’s  and 
Rice’s  bewildered  commands,  some  of  whom  were 
really  firing  into  each  other,  and  soon  stopped  all 
their  headway.  -‘-.I 

When  Ewell  witnessed  Jones’s  and  Battle’s  over- 
throw, he  hastened  back  to  Gordon,  who  was  just 
arriving  from  his  bivouac  beyond  Locust  Grove,  and 
implored  him  to  save  the  day.  Gordon  moved  his 
strong  brigade  well  to  the  south  of  the  road;  they 
formed  quickly,  and  at  his  stirring  command  dashed 
at  Cutler’s  and  Bartlett’s  men,  who,  by  this  time, 
were  in  great  disorder,  besides  having  met  with 
severe  losses.  As  showing  their  jumble,  the  Seventh 
Indiana,  that  started  on  Cutler’s  extreme  left,  had 
fought  its  way  clear  round  to  the  Pike,  while  the 
Sixth  Wisconsin,  that  tried  to  follow  it,  found  itself 
deep  in  the  woods  beyond  one  of  the  wandering 
branches  of  Wilderness  Run,  at  least  a quarter  of 
a mile  away  from  the  Seventh.  A company  of  the 
Twentieth  Maine,  that  had  started  in  Bartlett’s  sec- 
ond line,  came  out  on  the  Pike  a half-mile  west  of 
the  field;  and,  behold,  on  their  return,  they  were  be- 
yond a Confederate  line  of  battle  advancing  toward 
their  first  position.  This  little  command,  only  seven- 
teen of  them,  now  behaved  so  well  that  I think  they 
deserve  mention  as  well  as  the  exploits  of  brigades 
and  corps.  The  lieutenant,  Melcher,  gave  the  order. 


156  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


“Every  man  load  his  rifle  and  follow  me.”  Having 
drawn  near  the  Confederates,  intent  under  fire  from 
our  broken  men  in  front,  Melcher  formed  in  single 
rank,  he  on  the  right,  his  first  sergeant  on  the  left, 
and  taking  deliberate  aim,  fired,  and  then  with  a 
shout  charged.  Their  attack  was  a surprise  and 
could  only  have  happened  in  the  Wilderness.  With 
two  killed  and  six  wounded  they  fought  their  way 
through,  using  sword  and  bayonet,  but  brought  off 
thirty-two  prisoners  which  were  turned  over  to  the 
provost  marshal.  Suppose  every  company  in  the 
army  had  had  officers  and  first  sergeants  like  that! 

Such  was  the  state  of  our  lines  when  Dole’s,  and 
those  of  Battle’s  and  Jones’s  brigades  that  had  ral- 
lied, went  in  with  Gordon,  all  giving  their  wildest 
“rebel  yell.”  And,  reader,  let  me  tell  you  I heard 
that  rebel  yell  several  times;  and  if  you  had  been 
there,  with  the  scary  feeling  one  is  apt  to  have  in 
strange,  deep  woods,  the  chances  are  about  even, 
I think,  that  your  legs  would  have  volunteered  to 
carry  you  to  the  Lacy  farm,  or  for  that  matter  to  the 
other  side  of  the  Rapidan.  I mean  only  that  that 
would  have  been  your  first  feeling  as  you  heard  them 
coming  on;  but  I dare  say  you  would  have  faced  the 
enemy  right  well. 

Well,  as  I have  said,  what  was  left  of  Rice,  Stone, 
and  the  Maryland  brigade,  — all  somewhat  shaky, 
if  not  already  falling  back  under  the  advance  of 
Daniels,  — Gordon,  Dole,  and  Battle  struck  just  at 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  157 


the  right  time,  and  practically  sent  everything  flying, 
but  the  dead,  before  them.  Bartlett’s  troops  fell 
back,  in  great  disorder,  to  the  east  of  the  old  field  and 
the  works  they  had  made  in  the  morning;  most  of 
Cutler’s  and  those  on  the  left  did  not  stop  till  they 
reached  the  Lacy  farm.  There,  after  great  exertion, 
Wadsworth,  who  was  deeply  mortified  and  in  high 
temper,  rallied  them.  I recall  very  distinctly  their 
condition,  for  I was  right  among  them. 
f Jones  and  his  aide.  Captain  Early,  a nephew  of  the 
distinguished  Confederate  General  Early,  were  killed 
trying  to  rally  their  brigade.  I happened  to  be  at 
Grant’s  headquarters  that  afternoon  or  the  next 
morning,  just  after  the  news  of  his  death  was  received, 
and  overheard  some  one  ask,  “What  Jones  is  that?” 
Ingalls,  our  chief  quartermaster,  exclaimed  with  sur- 
prised regret,  “Why,  that  is  Jones,  J.  M.;  we  called 
him  ‘Rum’  Jones  at  West  Point.”  There  is  a stone 
on  the  south  side  of  the  Pike,  about  a mile  and  a 
quarter  west  of  the  old  field,  marking  the  spot  where 
he  fell. 

Roebling,  who  was  coming  back  from  Crawford, 
says  in  his  notes : — 

“I  found  the  little  road  (the  Parker’s  store  road) 
crowded  with  stragglers  and  large  crowds  of  soldiers 
pouring  out  of  the  woods  in  great  confusion  and  al- 
most panic-stricken.  Some  said  they  were  flanked, 
others  said  they  had  suddenly  come  upon  the  enemy 
lying  concealed  in  two  lines  of  battle  in  the  thick 


158  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


underbrush,  and  that  our  men  had  broken  at  the  first 
volley.  Cutler’s  brigade  came  back  in  good  order 
bringing  a number  of  prisoners;  the  2nd  Division 
Baxter’s  brigade  came  back  in  much  less  confusion.” 

Mr.  G.  M.  Woodward,  adjutant  of  the  Second 
Wisconsin  of  Cutler’s  brigade,  writes  me  that  just 
after  he  had  given  orders  for  the  regiment  to  break 
ranks,  and  fall  back  to  the  Parker’s  Store  Road  from 
which  they  had  moved,  all  the  field  officers  and  two 
of  the  captains  being  either  killed  or  wounded  and 
the  regiment  outflanked  by  Gordon’s  or  Dole’s  coun- 
ter-charge, he  concluded  he  would  stay  behind  a little 
and  discover,  if  he  could,  the  enemy’s  line  of  advance. 
While  peering  around,  he  suddenly  heard  a deep  bass 
voice:  “Adjutant,  what  be  I going  to  do  with  this 
flag?”  Turning,  he  saw  Davidson  the  color-bearer 
standing  bolt  upright  in  the  woods,  all  alone,  grasp- 
ing the  flagstaff.  Of  course  Woodward  gave  the 
necessary  orders  which  the  brave  color-sergeant  was 
waiting  for,  and  together,  under  a rattling  fire,  they 
rejoined  the  regiment. 

And  here,  reader,  let  me  bring  in  a word  from  my 
friend  Dr.  Winne,  to  whom  you  have  already  been 
introduced;  and  were  you  to  meet  him,  you  would 
wish  that  there  were  more  in  the  world  like  him. 
“When  Wadsworth’s  demoralized  division  was  re- 
forming at  the  Lacy  house,”  says  the  doctor  in  his 
letter  to  me,  “I  saw  a wonderful  example  of  the 
triumph  of  mind  over  matter  which  I have  never 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  159 


forgotten;  and  I can  almost  see  the  boy’s  face  yet. 
The  shattered  division  was  just  moving  back  to  the 
line  when  I noticed  the  youngster  in  his  place  going 
to  what  may  have  been  his  death,  with  pallid  face 
and  trembling  lips,  yet  with  his  head  erect  and  eyes 
to  the  front,  going  to  meet  Fate  like  a gentleman 
and  soldier.”  I hope,  and  so  do  you,  reader,  that  the 
boy  lived  through  it  and  on  into  a good  old  age,  his 
brave  heart  ever  his  cheerful  companion,  and  beating 
proudly  on  every  fifth  of  May. 

As  soon  as  Wadsworth’s  men  were  brought  into 
some  kind  of  order,  — and  it  only  took  a moment, 
for  once  out  of  the  woods  and  where  they  could  see 
their  colors,  all  rallied  save  now  and  then  a man  whose 
heart  was  not  made  for  war,  — I went  to  the  front. 
And  as  I reached  there  Bartlett  was  reforming,  Sweit- 
zer  and  Robinson  having  relieved  him  and  stayed 
the  enemy  from  advancing.  He  had  been  wounded 
in  the  cheek,  and  the  blood  was  trickling  down  on  his 
breast.  His  complexion  was  fair  and  his  hair  very 
black,  his  hat  was  off,  and  I can  see  his  bleeding  face, 
as  well  as  Griffin’s  deeply  glum  one,  across  all  the 
years. 

So  much  for  the  engagement  south  of  the  Pike. 
Ayres,  commanding  Griffin’s  right  wing  on  the  north 
side  of  the  road,  after  overcoming  annoying  and  de- 
laying hindrances,  brought  his  regiments  into  some 
sort  of  line  just  before  they  reached  the  old  field, 
resting  his  left,  the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  New 


160  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


York,  on  the  road.  By  this  time  Bartlett  with  Cutler 
had  gotten  across  the  south  end  of  the  field  and  had 
disappeared  pursuing  Jones;  but  Steuart’s  men  in  the 
woods  on  the  other  side  of  the  field,  the  continuation 
of  Jones’s  line,  had  stood  fast,  and  with  their  fingers 
on  the  triggers  were  poising  among  the  cedars,  scrub- 
oaks,  and  young  pines,  watching  Ayres;  and  as  soon 
as  the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth,  with  their  colors 
flying,  came  into  the  field,  opened  on  them  with  pre- 
meditated, withering  fire.  The  regiment,  under  its 
gallant  yellow -haired  leader,  “Paddy”  Ryan,  charged 
down  to  the  gully  and  up  to  the  woods,  losing  heavily 
at  every  step.  Receiving  also  a bitter  cross-fire  from 
their  right,  they  swerved  to  the  left,  the  color  com- 
pany astride  the  Pike,  and  then  at  close  range  grap- 
pled with  the  enemy.  The  Regulars  to  their  right, 
under  a murderous  fire,  crossed  the  upper  end  of  the 
field  in  perfect  alignment,  entered  the  woods,  and  be- 
gan an  almost  hand-to-hand  struggle.  But  Walker’s 
and  Stafford’s  Confederate  brigades,  with  nothing 
in  the  world  to  hinder,  — for  the  Sixth  Corps  was 
not  nearly  up,  — poured  deadly  vollies  into  them. 
The  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-fifth  and  Ninety-first 
Pennsylvania  Volunteers  went  valiantly  to  their 
support.  And  as  the  Second,  Eleventh,  Twelfth, 
Fourteenth,  and  Seventeenth  Regulars  are  advancing 
in  the  open  field  under  heavy  fire,  let  me  say  that  a 
steady  orderly  march  like  that  is  what  calls  for  fine 
courage.  It  is  easy,  my  friends,  to  break  into  a wild 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  161 


cheer,  and  at  the  top  of  your  speed  be  carried  along 
by  excitement’s  perilous  contagion  even  up  to  the 
enemy’s  works.  But  to  march  on  and  on  in  the  face 
of  withering  musketry  and  canister,  as  the  Regulars 
are  doing  now  and  as  Pickett’s  men  did  at  Gettys- 
burg; or  as  the  Sixth  Maine,  with  uncapped  guns, 
resolutely  and  silently  went  up  to  the  works  at 
Marye’s  Heights,  and,  by  the  way,  carried  them;  or 
as  I saw  the  colored  division  marching  on  heroically 
at  the  explosion  of  the  mine  at  Petersburg,  their 
colors  falling  at  almost  every  step,  but  lifted  again 
at  once,  — I say,  that  is  a kind  of  courage  which  sets 
your  heart  a-beating  as  your  eye  follows  their  flut- 
tering colors. 

Meanwhile  Griffin,  to  help  the  One  Hundred  and 
Fortieth  to  break  the  enemy’s  line,  sent  forward  a 
section  of  Battery  D,  First  New  York,  a move  of 
great  danger,  — and  the  guns  never  marched  with 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac  again.  The  section,  under 
Lieutenant  Shelton  riding  a spirited  chestnut  and  ac- 
companied by  his  Captain,  Winslow,  on  a bald-faced 
brown  horse,  trotted  down  the  Pike  and  over  the 
bridge  and  went  into  action  briskly;  the  air  around 
them  and  over  the  whole  field  hissing  with  minie 
balls.  In  the  edge  of  the  woods,  and  on  both  sides 
of  the  Pike,  at  less  than  two  hundred  yards  away, 
the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  was  fighting  almost 
muzzle  to  muzzle  with  the  First  and  Third  North 
Carolina.  The  first  and  only  round  from  the  sec- 


162  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


tion  crashed  through  the  woods,  ploughing  its  way 
among  friends  and  foes,  and  instead  of  helping, 
made  it  much  harder  for  the  brave  men.  And  just 
then,  too,  — the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  dreading 
another  round  every  moment,  — on  came  Battle’s 
and  Dole’s  rallied  brigades  against  their  left.  Pat 
O’Rorke’s  brave  men  — who  helped  to  save  Round 
Top,  the  gallant  Pat  losing  his  life  there  — stood 
the  unequal  contest  for  a moment  and  then  broke. 

The  guns  now  tried  to  retire  from  a position  to 
which  many  thought  they  should  not  have  been  or- 
dered. But  it  was  too  late.  Ayres’s  second  line,  which 
had  followed  the  One  Hundred  and  Fortieth  and  the 
Regulars  with  strong  hearts,  had  been  suffering  at 
every  step  by  the  bitter  and  continuous  cross-fire 
from  their  front  and  unprotected  flank;  and  by  the 
time  they  had  reached  the  farther  side  of  the  field  were 
so  mowed  down  that  they  could  save  neither  the  day 
nor  the  guns.  The  One  Hundred  and  Forty-sixth  of 
this  second  line  reached  the  gully  as  the  guns  tried 
to  withdraw,  but  was  completely  repulsed,  and  many 
of  them  made  prisoners.  Their  horses  being  killed 
and  officers  wounded  or  captured,  and  the  enemy 
on  top  of  them,  the  sun-sparkling  guns  fell  into 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.  The  brave  Shelton  was 
wounded  and  made  a prisoner,  his  proud  chestnut 
was  killed. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that,  pursued  by  Gordon’s, 
Dole’s,  and  Battle’s  brigades,  back  came  Bartlett’s 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  163 


men,  almost  in  a panic.  They  rushed  into  the  field 
and  actually  ran  over  the  North  Carolinians  about 
the  guns,  many  of  whom  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
gully.  The  Sixty-first  Alabama,  of  Battle’s  brigade, 
was  so  close  behind  our  people  that  they  hoisted 
their  colors  on  the  pieces  and  claimed  their  capture, 
till  the  North  Carolinians  emerged  from  the  gully 
and  said  No! 

By  this  time  Regulars  and  Volunteers  were  driven 
back  with  heavy  loss  to  the  east  side  of  the  field. 

The  victorious  Confederates  could  not  pursue  be- 
yond the  guns,  or  even  stand  there,  for  Sweitzer’s 
of  Griffin’s,  and  the  First  brigade  of  Robinson’s  di- 
vision, under  my  friend  Charles  L.  Pierson,  a gentle- 
man, together  with  our  rallied  men,  now  poured  such 
a fire  into  them  from  the  east  side  of  the  field,  that 
they  fled  back  to  their  lines  on  the  edge  of  the 
woods.  Meanwhile  the  gully  was  full  of  their  men 
and  ours,  most  of  whom  were  wounded,  and  who  did 
not  dare  to  show  themselves. 

In  an  attempt  to  recapture  the  guns — whose  loss 
Griffin,  the  commander  of  our  West  Point  battery 
in  my  day,  felt  deeply  — the  Ninth  Massachusetts, 
an  Irish  regiment,  and  the  Ninetieth  Pennsylvania 
suffered  frightfully,  adding  to  the  thickly  lying  dead 
in  the  old  field.  Its  last  year’s  crop,  as  already  told, 
was  corn;  and  sweeter  by  far  were  the  rustling  of 
its  swaying  blades  and  tasseling  tops  than  the  sting- 
ing flights  of  the  bullets  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded. 


164  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


O!  violets,  innocent  little  houstonias,  flaming  aza- 
leas, broom-grass,  struggling  pines,  cedars,  oaks, 
gums,  and  sassafras,  now  dotting  the  field,  when  the 
south  wind  blows  and  the  stars  call  out,  “This  is  the 
fifth  of  May,”  do  you  break  into  your  mellow  speech 
and  commemorate  the  boys  I saw  lying  there  beyond 
the  reach  of  friendly  hands?  Yes,  I know  right  well 
you  do:  and  Heaven  bless  every  one  of  you;  and  so 
says  every  Northern  oak  and  elm,  and  so  says  every 
poplar  and  Southern  pine  that  borders  the  old  fields 
of  home. 

The  guns  stood  there  that  night  and  all  through 
the  next  day,  for  the  fire  was  so  close  and  deadly 
from  their  lines  and  ours  that  no  one  could  approach 
them.  When  Gordon  broke  Sedgwick’s  line  at  dusk 
the  following  night,  to  the  right  of  the  Sixth  Corps, 
the  enemy  availed  themselves  of  our  confusion  to 
draw  them  off. 

On  the  repulse  of  Griffin  and  Wadsworth,  Craw- 
ford was  drawn  well  down  on  the  Parker’s  Store  Road 
and  began  to  entrench.  Thus  by  half -past  one  War- 
ren’s corps  had  been  thrown  back  with  heavy  loss; 
and  all  because  the  Sixth  Corps  had  not  been  able  to 
connect  with  it.  Upton’s  troops  did  not  get  abreast 
of  Ayres’s  bleeding  brigade  till  three  o’clock,  and 
the  ground  where  they  had  fought  had  burned  over. 
He  drove  the  enemy  from  an  advanced  position  — 
for  no  one  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  had  greater 
courage  or  more  soldierly  abilities  than  Upton  — and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  165 


then  entrenched.  In  front  and  behind  his  lines  were 
many  scorched  and  burned  bodies  of  our  men  and  of 
the  Second,  Tenth,  Fourteenth,  and  Sixteenth  regi- 
ments of  Stafford’s  Confederate  brigade,  who,  with 
James  A.  Walker’s,  enveloped  the  right  flank  of  the 
Regulars. 

Brown’s  and  Russell’s  brigades  of  the  Sixth  Corps, 
on  Upton’s  right,  greatly  impeded  as  he  had  been  in 
their  advance  through  the  scrub-oaks,  saplings  of  all 
kinds,  and  intermingling  underbrush,  came  in  con- 
flict with  Early’s  division,  which,  after  the  repulse 
of  Griffin,  had  been  pushed  well  out  on  Johnson’s 
left,  and,  under  Hays,  Stafford,  and  Pegram,  was  ad- 
vancing between  Flat  Run  and  the  road  of  that  name. 
Russell,  on  the  right,  gave  them  a sudden  and  severe 
check,  capturing  almost  entire  the  Twenty -fifth  Vir- 
ginia of  Jones’s  brigade,  which  after  regaining  its 
hope  and  courage  had  been  moved  to  the  left.  In 
this  engagement,  or  subsequent  ones,  for  fighting  was 
kept  up  on  and  off  till  dark,  Stafford  was  killed  and 
Pegram  severely  wounded. 

As  soon  as  they  had  driven  us  back  on  Griffin’s 
front,  the  enemy  began  to  strengthen  their  entrench- 
ments and  brought  guns  down  to  their  line.  Our  men 
did  likewise;  so,  besides  musketry,  the  field  was  swept 
with  canister,  for  they  were  only  four  hundred  yards 
apart;  off  on  the  right,  in  Sedgwick’s  front,  the  lines 
in  some  places  were  within  pistol-shot  of  each  other. 

The  woods  on  the  Confederate  side  got  on  fire  and 


166  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


burned  widely.  “Suddenly,  to  the  horror  of  the  liv- 
ing,” wrote  a member  of  the  Seventh  Indiana  who 
was  lying  along  the  Pike,  wounded,  about  where 
Jones  was  killed,  “fire  was  seen  creeping  over  the 
ground,  fed  by  dead  leaves  which  were  thick.  All 
who  could  move  tried  to  get  beyond  the  Pike,  which 
the  fire  could  not  cross.  Some  were  overtaken  by 
the  flames  when  they  had  crawled  but  a few  feet, 
and  some  when  they  had  almost  reached  the  road. 
The  ground,  which  had  been  strewn  with  dead  and 
wounded,  was  in  a few  hours  blackened,  with  no  dis- 
tinguishable figure  upon  it.” 

Some  time  after  his  repulse,  Griffin,  in  miserable 
humor,  rode  back  to  Meade’s  headquarters,  and  in 
the  course  of  his  interview  allowed  his  feelings  to  get 
away  with  him,  exclaiming  in  the  hearing  of  every 
one  around  that  he  had  driven  Ewell  three-quarters 
of  a mile,  but  had  had  no  support  on  his  flanks.  Then, 
boiling  still  higher,  he  censured  Wright  of  the  Sixth 
Corps  for  not  coming  to  his  aid,  and  even  blurted  out 
something  so  mutinous  about  Warren,  that  Grant 
asked  Meade,  “Who  is  this  General  Gregg?  You 
ought  to  arrest  him.”  Meade,  however,  kept  his  tem- 
per and  said  soothingly,  “It’s  Griffin,  not  Gregg, 
and  it’s  only  his  way  of  talking.”  This  flurry  of  Grif- 
fin’s was  a part  of  the  aftermath  of  the  delusion  that 
Lee  would  not  take  the  offensive;  but  in  view  of  all 
the  near  and  remote  consequences  of  that  delusion, 
the  most  of  which  are  obvious,  it  is  but  a wisp.  There 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  167 


is  nothing  in  the  campaign  which  approaches  the  in- 
terest which  that  delusion  has  for  me.  Sometimes 
as  I ponder  over  it,  I think  I hear  voices  near  and  yet 
far  away,  and  something  within  tells  me  that  they 
are  chanting  one  of  Fate’s  old  and  weird  melodies,  — 
and  then  all  is  still. 

It  seems  probable,  with  what  we  know  now  of  the 
situation,  that,  if  Griffin  had  not  been  sent  forward 
till  Upton  had  joined  him,  Ewell  would  have  been 
driven  far  away  from  where  Major  Stiles  found  him 
boiling  his  coffee.  And  I wonder  where  he  would  have 
boiled  it  the  next  morning:  possibly  far  back  on  the 
banks  of  Mine  Run,  or,  more  likely,  on  the  head- 
waters of  one  of  the  streams  bearing  off  to  the  North 
Anna,  for  Lee  would  have  had  to  fall  back  in  that 
direction  till  he  met  Longstreet.  Wherever  he  may 
have  breakfasted,  for  me  Ewell  has  always  been  an 
interesting  character.  Major  Stiles  tells  us  that  he 
was  a great  cook.  “I  remember  on  one  occasion  later 
in  the  war,”  says  the  major,  “I  met  him  in  the  outer 
defenses  of  Richmond,  and  he  told  me  some  one  had 
sent  him  a turkey-leg  which  he  was  going  to  ‘devil’; 
that  he  was  strong  in  that  particular  dish;  that  his 
staff  would  be  away,  and  I must  come  around  that 
evening  and  share  it  with  him.”  The  major  had  a 
part  of  the  deviled  turkey-leg  and  a happy  evening 
with  the  general.  It  was  this  same  grim,  kind-hearted 
old  Ewell  who  reported  that  Stonewall  Jackson  once 
told  him  that  he  could  not  eat  black  pepper  because 


168  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


it  gave  him  rheumatism  in  one  of  his  legs ! It  would 
have  been  well  for  soldiers  in  Banks’s  army  if  Stone- 
wall had  “unbeknownst”  eaten  some  black  pepper 
before  he  got  after  them  in  ’62;  it  might  have  saved 
them  a part,  at  least,  of  that  awfully  hot  chase  back 
to  the  Potomac. 

They  say  that  Ewell  looked  very  sad  as  he  sat 
before  a camp-fire  the  night  he  was  captured  at  Sail- 
or’s Creek,  a few  days  before  Lee  surrendered. 

And  now  let  us  turn  from  Warren,  Griffin,  and 
Sedgwick,  to  Getty,  who  reached  the  junction  of  the 
Brock  and  Plank  roads  about  the  very  hour  when 
Warren  began  his  attack.  That  historic  point  might, 
not  only  for  the  sake  of  the  services  they  rendered 
that  day,  but  for  services  on  many  other  fields,  be 
called  Getty’s  or  Hammond’s  Crossing.  Perhaps  a 
descriptive  word  or  two  as  to  its  adjacent  natural 
features  will  aid  the  reader  to  see  — and  I wish  he 
might  hear,  also  — the  stirring  events  that  took  place 
there;  for  I believe  that  no  crossing  of  country  roads 
on  this  continent  ever  heard,  or  perhaps  ever  will 
hear,  such  volleys. 

The  roads,  the  ground  of  their  low  banks  a dull 
brick-red,  cross  each  other  at  a right  angle  in  the 
midst  of  dense,  silent  woods  which  are  chiefly  oaks, 
medium-sized,  shaggy  and  surly,  the  ground  beneath 
them  heavily  set  with  underbrush.  The  Brock  then 
bears  on  south  some  four  miles,  through  whippoor- 
will-haunted woods,  to  Todd’s  Tavern,  and  thence 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  169 


on  through  woods  again  to  Spotsylvania.  About 
half-way  between  the  junction  and  Todd’s  Tavern, 
the  Brock  is  intersected  by  a narrow-gauge  railroad 
which  runs  from  Orange  Court  House  to  Fredericks- 
burg. Having  reached  Parker’s  store  on  its  way  east 
from  Orange  Court  House,  the  railway  swings  off 
southerly  from  the  Plank  with  a long  curve,  till  it 
comes  to  the  Brock,  and  then  darts  across  it.  When 
the  war  came  on,  its  narrow  location  had  just  been 
cleared  through  the  woods,  and  the  roadbed  graded. 
It  will  be  seen  in  due  time  what  use  Longstreet  made 
of  this  roadbed;  how  his  flanking  column  under  the 
handsome  and  gallant  Sorrel  formed  there  and  swept 
everything  before  it  to  the  Plank  Road  as  he  charged 
due  northward  through  the  woods,  gray  and  pun- 
gent with  the  smoke  of  battle  and  burning  leaves. 
From  the  junction  west  to  Parker’s  store  is  about 
two  and  a half  miles,  and  east  to  where  Jackson 
met  his  fatal  volley  on  the  battle-field  of  Chancel- 
lorsville  is  less  than  a half-hour’s  rapid  walk. 

The  spring-head  of  the  most  easterly  branch  of 
Wilderness  Run  crosses  the  Brock  a third  or  a half 
mile  north  of  the  junction.  Over  dead  leaves  and 
dead  limbs  and  around  low  tussocks,  crowned  when 
I saw  them  last  with  blooming  cowslips,  the  darkish 
water  comes  stealing  out  of  the  gloomy  woods  on 
the  east  side  of  the  road,  glints  at  the  sun,  and 
then  disappears  in  those  to  the  west.  This  branch 
soon  spreads  into  a zigzagging  morass  falling  in 


170  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


with  others  like  it  which  head  near  the  Plank  Road 
and  creep  northward,  separated  by  low,  tortuous, 
broken  ridges,  the  dying-away  of  the  heaving  pla- 
teau that  sweeps  around  from  Chewning’s.  The 
waters  of  all  of  them  unite  at  last  in  Wilderness 
Run.  In  these  shallow  depressions  bamboo-like  vines 
abound,  tangling  all  the  bushes,  but  here  and  there 
is  an  azalea  amongst  them,  and,  when  the  battle  was 
going  on,  dogwoods  were  in  bloom  along  their  banks 
and  on  the  ridges  between  them.  These  alternating 
ridges  and  swampy  interlaced  thickets  twill  the  coun- 
try, that  lies  inclined  like  a canted  trough  in  the  angle 
between  the  Brock  Road  and  the  Plank.  It  was  the 
scene  of  very,  very  bitter  fighting,  and  there  many 
men  of  both  armies  were  lost. 

The  ground  on  the  south  side  of  the  Plank  is  gently 
wavy,  and  about  its  junction  with  the  Brock  may  be 
called  dry,  level,  and  firm;  but  in  less  than  a mile  to 
the  west,  low  ridges  are  met  with  like  those  on  the 
north  side,  between  which  are  thickety  morasses 
again;  but  they  drain  off  southward  into  affluents  of 
Jackson’s  Run,  one  of  whose  branches  is  a compan- 
ion of  the  Brock  Road  for  a while.  These  waters 
saunter  their  way  into  the  Po  and  Ny  and  then  on  at 
last  into  the  Pamunkey,  while  those  in  the  morasses 
on  the  north  side  of  the  Plank  flow  into  the  Rapidan 
and  then  into  the  Rappahannock.  The  land  gener- 
ally, however,  is  higher  on  the  south  than  on  the 
north  side  of  the  road,  and  not  nearly  so  broken; 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  171 


but  on  either  side  one  can  barely  see  a man  thirty 
yards  away. 

About  a mile  and  three-quarters  west  of  the  junc- 
tion the  Plank  emerges  from  the  glooming  woods  into 
a clearing  of  twenty  or  thirty  acres;  it  is  a very  quiet 
spot,  and  over  the  most  of  it  the  broom-grass  is  wav- 
ing. The  northern  edge  of  this  humble  little  estate 
follows  the  abrupt,  bulging  descents  of  the  Chewning 
circular  ridge  which  encloses  the  basin  of  Wilderness 
Run.  It  is  the  Widow  Tapp’s  place;  her  small  house, 
with  companion  corn-crib  and  log  stable,  stand 
several  hundred  yards  from  the  road  and  partly 
masked  by  meagre  plum  and  cherry  trees.  In  this 
old  dun  clearing  Lee  made  his  headquarters  during 
a part  of  the  struggle,  and  by  the  roadside  just  at  the 
border  of  the  woods  is  the  stone  with,  “Lee  to  the 
rear,  say  the  Texans,”  inscribed  upon  it. 

Getty’s  leading  brigade,  Wheaton’s,  on  the  run, 
as  already  recorded,  reached  the  Plank  Road  by 
noon,  and  with  all  haste  deployed  astride  it,  the 
Ninety-third  Pennsylvania  on  the  left,  the  One 
Hundred  and  Thirty-ninth  Pennsylvania  on  the 
right,  and  succeeded,  after  losing  quite  a number 
of  men,  in  checking  Heth’s  advance.  As  fast  as  the 
other  brigades  of  the  division  came  up,  they  were 
formed  in  two  lines,  Eustis  on  the  right  of  Wheaton, 
and  the  ever-gallant  Vermont  brigade  under  Lewis 
A.  Grant  on  the  left.  Learning  from  prisoners  that 
he  was  confronted  by  two  of  Hill’s  divisions,  Heth’s 


172  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


and  Wilcox’s,  Getty  immediately  began  to  throw  up 
breastworks  along  the  Brock  Road,  to  the  right 
and  left  of  the  junction.  While  thus  engaged,  his 
troops  skirmishing  briskly  along  their  entire  front, 
Hancock,  preceding  his  corps  at  a fast  gallop,  reined 
up  before  him,  looking  the  soldier  through  and 
through,  — and  I can  see  his  high-headed  and  high- 
withered  sorrel,  with  nostrils  expanded  and  pride  in 
his  mien  that  he  had  brought  his  gallant  rider  to 
the  scene  of  action. 

It  took  but  a moment  for  Getty  to  make  the  sit- 
uation clear  to  Hancock,  whose  animated  face  that 
morning,  and  every  morning,  was  handsomely  stern 
with  a natural  nobility  of  manner  and  an  atmo- 
sphere of  magnanimity  about  him.  It  was  then  after 
one  o’clock,  and  by  this  time,  although  unknown  to 
Getty,  Warren’s  repulse  was  almost  complete.  Han- 
cock at  once  sent  his  staff-officers  back,  directing  di- 
vision and  brigade  commanders  to  hurry  the  troops 
forward  with  all  possible  speed.  His  martial  and 
intense  spirit  so  imbued  his  corps,  and  his  relations 
with  it  were  of  such  a personal  character,  that  his 
fervor  in  the  face  of  the  threatening  situation  was 
communicated  like  a bugle-call  to  the  entire  column. 
But  on  account  of  the  road  being  blocked  by  the 
trains  and  artillery,  the  men  were  greatly  impeded 
in  their  march.  About  half-past  two,  Birney’s,  Han- 
cock’s leading  division,  bore  in  sight,  and  under 
orders  formed  hurriedly  on  Getty’s  left,  continuing 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  173 


the  latter’s  line  of  entrenchments  so  as  to  be  ready  if 
Hill  should  come  on,  which  was  momentarily  expected 
by  Getty. 

And  so,  as  one  after  another  of  his  perspiring 
divisions  closed  up,  each  formed  on  the  other’s  left 
and  entrenched:  Birney,  Mott,  then  Gibbon,  and 
last  Barlow,  whose  division  was  thrown  forward  of 
the  Brock  Road  on  some  high,  clear  ground  which 
commanded  an  immediate  sweep  of  country;  and 
there,  save  twTo  batteries,  Dow’s  and  Ricketts’s,  all 
the  artillery  of  the  corps  was  massed.  Barlow’s  line 
then  bowed  eastward  across  the  Brock  Road,  not  far 
from  where  the  railway  crosses  it. 

Meanwhile  Warren’s  repulse  had  made  headquar- 
ters very  anxious,  and  as  early  as  half-past  one,  or- 
ders suggesting  an  advance  had  been  sent  to  Getty. 
But,  believing  that  Heth  and  Wilcox  were  both  in 
front  of  him,  and  evidently  in  no  mood  to  yield,  and 
Hancock’s  men  almost  at  hand,  he  used  his  discre- 
tion and  waited  for  their  coming,  his  understanding 
with  Hancock  being  that,  as  soon  as  he  was  ready, 
they  should  go  forwrard.  In  harmony  with  this  un- 
derstanding, on  Birney’s  arrival,  Getty  withdrew 
Eustis  into  reserve,  moved  Wheaton  to  the  north 
side  of  the  Plank  Road,  and  Lewis  H.  Grant  by  flank 
till  his  right  rested  on  it.  Both  brigades,  save  their 
heavy  skirmish  lines,  were  on  the  Brock  Road  behind 
their  temporary  works. 

Birney’s  and  Mott’s  divisions,  as  soon  as  their  tire- 


174  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


some  march  was  over,  began,  by  Hancock’s  orders,  to 
throw  up  a continuation  of  Getty’s  breastworks  along 
the  west  side  of  the  road.  The  old  works,  now  sunk 
to  low,  flattened  ridges,  and  covered  with  bushes 
and  saplings,  some  of  which  are  quite  large,  seem 
almost  endless  as  you  travel  the  lonely  road  to 
Todd’s  Tavern. 

The  news  from  Griffin’s  front  growing  more  and 
more  disturbing,  Humphreys,  Meade’s  chief  of  staff, 
at  a quarter  after  two  reported  the  serious  results  to 
Hancock,  who  in  reply  said  that  two  of  his  divisions, 
Birney’s  and  Mott’s,  in  conjunction  with  Getty, 
would  make  an  attack  as  soon  as  they  could  get  ready. 
This  was  not  the  response  headquarters  had  hoped 
for,  but  that  he  would  spring  to  the  attack;  for  the 
situation  demanded  it.  Minutes  followed  minutes, 
worser  and  worser  came  the  news  from  Warren, 
and  not  a sound  from  Hancock’s  and  Getty’s  guns. 
Meade  could  stand  it  no  longer  and  sent  Colonel 
Lyman  of  his  staff  with  a peremptory  order  to  Getty 
to  attack  at  once,  with  or  without  Hancock.  It  was 
the  same  kind  of  an  order  in  terms  and  spirit  which 
had  sent  Griffin  ahead  without  knowing  whether 
Upton  was  ready  to  help  him. 

Humphreys,  in  confirming  Meade’s  orders  to  Han- 
cock to  attack,  directed  him  to  support  Getty  with 
a division  on  his  right  and  another  on  his  left, 
“but  the  attack  up  the  Plank  Road  must  be  made 
at  once.”  Accordingly  Hancock  ordered  Birney  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  175 


send  one  of  his  brigades,  Hays’s  to  Getty’s  right. 
Hays,  that  very  gallant  man,  moved  as  fast  as  he 
could  up  the  Brock  Road  past  the  junction,  but 
Getty,  having  caught  the  spirit  of  his  orders  and 
knowing  that  he  could  not  wait  for  any  shifting  of 
Hancock’s  troops,  had  given  the  command  forward; 
and  before  Hays  reached  his  position  his  men  had 
cleared  their  works  and  were  desperately  engaged.  It 
was  then  4.15  p.  m. 


VII 


And  now,  having  established  our  forces  at  the  junc- 
tion, let  us  go  back  and  establish  theirs;  let  us  go  to 
where  Lee  had  bivouacked  in  the  woods  near  Mrs. 
Rodes’s,  and  follow  the  train  of  events  which,  as  the 
day  progressed,  had  put  Heth  ready  to  plunge  at 
Getty;  for,  as  a matter  of  fact,  he  was  just  about  to 
take  the  offensive  when  Getty  struck  at  him.  The 
sun  rose  that  morning  at  4.48,  — I saw  it  come  up, 
a deep  poppy  red,  — and  by  the  time  it  started  to 
clear  the  tree-tops,  Lee  was  breakfasting  and  his 
trusty,  heavily-built,  iron-gray  horse,  Traveller, 
stood  saddled,  ready  for  him  to  mount.  Lee  was 
fifty  odd  years  old,  about  six  feet  tall,  nobly  hand- 
some, unmistakably  dignified  and  reserved,  his  gray 
trimmed  beard  darkening  as  it  mounted  his  sub- 
duedly  ruddy  cheeks,  and  his  enlightened,  dauntless 
eyes,  a warm  brown  hazel.  As  has  been  said  before, 
he  was  very  cheerful  while  he  breakfasted  with  his 
staff.  It  may  be  interesting  to  know  that  it  was 
his  habit  in  the  field  not  to  loiter  at  the  table,  but 
to  leave  it  early,  so  that  his  young  and  light-hearted 
friends  might  enjoy  its  freedom.  He  conveyed  the 
impression  to  all  of  them  that  morning  — how  a reli- 
ant spirit  in  a commander  spreads  through  his  staff! 
— that  at  heart  he  was  looking  forward  to  a victory 
over  Grant.- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  177 


The  troops  of  his  small,  punctilious,  courageous, 
and  mysteriously  impressive  Third  Corps  commander 
A.  P.  Hill,  who  had  been  with  him  on  so  many  fields, 
were  just  moving,  and  “Jeb”  Stuart,  his  buoyant 
and  reliable  cavalry  leader  who  had  bivouacked  that 
night  in  rear  of  the  picket-reserve  and  some  distance 
beyond  the  infantry,  and,  according  to  his  biographer, 
Major  McClellan  of  his  staff,  was  conducting  the 
advance  of  Hill’s  corps. 

There  are  no  two  of  the  Confederate  generals  who 
are  more  vitally  interesting  to  me  than  Stuart  and 
Hill,  although  I never  saw  either  of  them  that  I know 
of;  they  may,  however,  have  visited  West  Point  and 
passed  unnoticed  in  the  stream  of  young  and  old 
officers  who  were  coming  and  going  to  their  Alma 
Mater  when  I was  there.  But,  however  it  may 
have  been,  everything  I hear  or  read  of  Stuart  is  ac- 
companied with  a sense  of  nearness:  I catch  sight 
of  his  fine  features,  his  manly  figure,  his  dazzling, 
boyish  blue  eyes,  his  flowing,  brownly  auburn  beard, 
and  hear  his  voice  ringing  with  either  command  or 
glee.  It  is  said  that  rarely  was  his  camp-fire  lit 
that  he  did  not  make  it  joyous,  his  voice  leading  in 
chorus  and  song.  And  now  the  mystic  bugles  of  his 
troopers  are  sounding  taps  from  the  Rapidan  to  the 
James  in  his  old  camps,  and,  hark!  as  they  die 
away,  “Jeb”  is  still  singing  on,  for  woods  and  fields 
and  running  streams  all  love  the  memory  of  a happy 
heart. 


178  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Nature  made  him  a cavalry  leader  by  instinct,  and 
a very  sweet  character.  All  of  his  old  army  and  West 
Point  friends  never  wearied  in  testifying  to  their 
affection  for  him.  He  met  his  mortal  wound  just  a 
week  after  the  morning  we  are  dealing  with.  When 
told  that  death  was  very  near  he  asked  that  the 
“Rock  of  Ages,  cleft  for  me,”  might  be  sung,  and 
with  his  failing  breath  joined  as  they  sang  around  his 
bed.  When  in  the  field  he  always  wore  a yellow  cav- 
alry sash,  and  a felt  hat  with  a black  plume. 

Why  Hill  has  been  so  interesting  is  perhaps  be- 
cause there  is  always  something  very  keen  to  me  in 
the  courteous  dignity,  care  of  personal  appearance, 
and  a certain  guarded  self-control,  of  officers  who 
are  small  in  stature,  but  naturally  “military,”  and 
whose  lives  and  movements  are  in  harmony  with  all 
forms  of  military  etiquette.  They  say  he  was  quiet 
in  manner,  but  when  aroused  and  angered,  was  hard 
to  appease.  He  wore  his  coal-black  hair  rather  long, 
and  his  face  was  bearded,  his  eyes  rather  sunken,  and 
his  voice  sharp  and  stern.  But  what  kindles  an  en- 
during, historic  light  about  him  is  that,  when  both 
Stonewall  Jackson  and  Lee  were  dying,  he,  this  little, 
punctilious,  courteous  soldier,  was  in  their  misting 
vision.  Stonewall  said,  as  he  was  fading  away,  “Tell 
A.  P.  Hill  to  prepare  for  action  ”;  Lee,  like  Stonewall, 
was  back  on  the  field  and  murmured,  “Tell  A.  P. 
Hill  he  must  come  up.”  Well,  well,  flowers  of  Vir- 
ginia! go  on  blooming  and  blooming  sweetly,  too, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  179 


by  the  grave  of  each  of  them  as  this  narrative  wends 
its  way. 

Kirkland’s  brigade  of  North  Carolinians  of  Heth’s 
division  was  in  front  that  morning,  and  moved  leis- 
urely; for  Hill  had  had  the  same  instructions  as  Ewell, 
to  develop  our  lines  but  not  to  bring  on  a general 
battle  till  Longstreet  should  overtake  them.  “Never 
did  a regiment  march  more  proudly  and  deter- 
minedly than  the  Twenty-sixth  North  Carolina  as 
it  headed  the  column  for  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness. 
We  passed  General  Lee  and  his  staff.”  So  says  its 
historian. 

It  was  the  same  regiment  that  charged  at  Gettys- 
burg and  lost  so  heavily  on  the  first  day,  led  by  those 
two  fine  young  men,  Burgwyn  and  “Rip”  McCreery, 
both  of  whom  lost  their  lives.  I wonder  if,  for  the 
sake  of  boyhood’s  memories  which  I shared  with 
McCreery  at  West  Point,  the  reader  will  consent  to 
allow  the  current  of  events  to  eddy  for  a moment 
around  him  and  Burgwyn.  At  Gettysburg  their  regi- 
ment, the  Twenty-sixth,  waiting  for  the  command, 
“Forward,”  was  lying  down  in  the  edge  of  the 
wheat-field  that  waved  up  to  McPherson’s  woods. 

After  a while  Burgwyn,  spare,  refinedly  and  deli- 
cately handsome,  gave  the  long-waited-for  com- 
mand, “Attention!”  The  lines  sprang  to  their  feet, 
the  color-bearer  stepped  out  four  paces  to  the  front, 
and  at  the  command,  “Forward!”  the  regiment, 
eight  hundred  strong,  moved  resolutely  across  the 


180  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


field  toward  our  men,  who  were  standing  partially 
protected  by  a stone  wall.  The  engagement  soon  be- 
came desperate,  and  after  the  colors  of  the  Twenty- 
sixth  had  been  cut  down  ten  times,  McCreery  seized 
them  and,  waving  them  aloft,  led  on;  but  within  a 
few  paces  he  was  shot  through  the  heart,  and  his 
Virginia  blood  gushed  out,  drenching  the  colors. 
Burgwyn  took  them  from  McCreery ’s  flaccid  hand, 
— and  again  I see  that  thin,  nervous  hand  sweeping 
the  holy  air  of  the  chapel  in  impassioned  gesture  as 
he  delivers  his  Fourth  of  July  oration,  — a moment 
later  a minnie  ball  goes  tearing  through  Burgwyn’s 
lungs,  and,  as  he  falls,  swirling,  the  flag  wraps  about 
him.  The  lieutenant-colonel  of  the  regiment  kneels 
by  his  side  and  asks,  “Are  you  severely  hurt,  dear 
colonel?”  He  could  not  speak,  but  pressed  his 
friend’s  hand  softly  and  soon  passed  away. 

The  Twenty-sixth,  with  its  gallantly  commanded 
Confederate  brigade,  finally  carried  the  position;  and 
it  adds  interest  and,  I am  sure,  stirs  a feeling  of  pride 
in  every  Northern  breast,  that  the  Twenty-sixth’s 
worthy  opponent  that  day  at  Gettysburg  was  the 
Twenty-fourth  Michigan,  now  present  in  the  Wilder- 
ness, whose  exploit  of  capturing  the  colors  of  the 
Forty-eighth  Virginia  has  already  been  given.  Nine 
officers  and  men  carried  the  flag  of  that  Michigan 
regiment  during  the  action  at  Gettysburg;  four 
of  them  and  all  the  color-guard  were  killed.  The 
Twenty-fourth  was  from  the  shores  of  lakes  Erie 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  181 


and  Huron,  the  Twenty-sixth  from  the  slopes  of  the 
mountains  of  western  North  Carolina.  In  one  of  the 
North  Carolina  companies  there  were  three  sets  of 
twins,  and,  when  the  battle  was  over,  five  of  the  six 
were  lying  dead  with  Burgwyn  and  “Rip”  McCreery. 

And  now  to  go  on  with  the  narrative,  Kirkland’s 
brigade  was  followed  by  Cooke’s,  also  made  up  en- 
tirely of  North  Carolinians,  and  then  came  Walker’s 
and  Davis’s  brigades,  the  latter  from  Mississippi, 
the  former  from  Virginia.  Wilcox  with  his  division 
followed  Heth.  While  Ewell  was  marshaling  rather 
cautiously  in  front  of  Griffin,  Heth  kept  on  slowly 
down  the  Plank  Road,  and  every  once  in  a while 
from  the  southwest  came  the  boom  of  Wilson’s  guns, 
who,  three  or  four  miles  away,  on  the  Catharpin 
Road,  was  already  engaging  Rosser  right  valiantly. 
At  last  Heth  was  in  reach  of  the  Brock  Road,  but 
Wheaton’s  sudden  appearance  put  a new  aspect  on 
affairs.  Kirkland  pushed  his  skirmish  line  hard  up, 
and  Wheaton  not  budging,  Heth  notified  Hill  that 
he  had  reason  to  believe  a strong  force  was  in  his 
front.  Before  this  news  could  reach  headquarters, 
Lee,  his  mind  being  wholly  taken  up  with  what  had 
just  happened  on  Ewell’s  front,  namely,  the  over- 
throw of  Jones’s  and  Battle’s  brigades  and  the  sav- 
age fighting  inaugurated  on  the  Pike,  had  ordered 
Wilcox  to  move  toward  the  danger-point.  Wilcox 
left  McGowan  and  Scales  to  look  after  Crawford,  and 
pressed  northward  through  the  woods  with  his  other 


182  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


brigades,  Lane’s  and  Thomas’s.  Riding  ahead  of  his 
troops,  he  found  Gordon,  and  had  barely  spoken  to 
him  when  a volley  broke  from  where  he  had  left  his 
men.  The  musketry  he  heard  was  between  his  people 
and  McCandless,  who,  having  failed  to  make  any 
connection  with  Wadsworth,  was  moving  forward  by 
compass,  and,  as  it  proved,  right  into  the  arms  of 
Wilcox’s  two  brigades,  which  very  soon  disposed  of 
him,  capturing  almost  entire  the  Seventh  Pennsyl- 
vania. This  case  illustrates  well  the  chance  collisions 
which  marked  the  fighting  in  the  Wilderness,  owing 
to  the  density  of  the  woods. 

After  Warren’s  repulse,  Sedgwick  not  threatening 
seriously,  Ewell  having  entrenched  himself  firmly  and 
apparently  safely  before  both  of  them,  Lee  gave  at- 
tention to  the  news  sent  by  Heth  in  regard  to  our 
stubborn  lines  at  the  junction,  and  about  half-past 
three  he  sent  this  message  to  him  by  Colonel  Mar- 
shall, his  chief  of  staff : “ General  Lee  directs  me  to 
say  that  it  is  very  important  for  him  to  have  posses- 
sion of  Brock  Road,  and  wishes  you  to  take  that  po- 
sition, provided  you  can  do  so  without  bringing  on 
a general  engagement.” 

And  here  let  me  make  this  comment  on  Lee’s  mes- 
sage. All  authorities  agree  that  his  orders  in  every 
case  to  those  in  front  that  day  were  qualified  by  the 
caution  not  to  bring  on  a general  engagement.  Or- 
ders of  this  kind  are  embarrassing;  for  a corps  or  di- 
vision commander  never  knows  how  far  to  push  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  183 


successes.  Their  evils  had  a good  illustration  at  Get- 
tysburg. There  Lee  used  identically  the  same  lan- 
guage on  the  first  day;  and  when  Trimble  urged  Ewell 
to  take  advantage  of  the  complete  overthrow  of  our 
First  Corps  and  follow  up  our  disordered  troops  and 
seize  the  Cemetery  Ridge,  he  replied  that  he  had  or- 
ders from  Lee  not  to  bring  on  a general  engagement. 
Lee’s  indeterminate,  and  therefore  hampering  orders, 
I believe,  lost  him  the  battle  of  Gettysburg. 

Heth  replied  in  effect  that  the  only  way  to  find  out 
whether  it  would  bring  on  a general  engagement  was 
to  make  the  attempt;  and  while  Marshall  returned 
for  a reply,  he  formed  his  division  across  the  Plank 
Road  in  line  of  battle,  ready  to  go  ahead  if  that  should 
be  the  command.  Cooke’s  brigade  was  in  the  centre, 
the  F if teenth  and  F orty-sixth  on  the  right,  the  Twenty- 
seventh  and  Forty-eighth  North  Carolina  on  the  left 
of  the  road.  Davis’s  brigade,  made  up  of  the  Second, 
Eleventh,  and  Forty-second  Mississippi,  and  the 
Fifty-fifth  North  Carolina,  was  on  Cooke’s  left. 
Walker  was  on  the  latter’s  right,  Kirkland  in  reserve. 
The  line  on  which  Heth’s  troops  were  formed  had 
not  been  chosen  for  the  special  advantages  of  defense 
it  offered,  but  rather  by  chance,  for  he  expected  to 
be  the  assailant.  A better  one,  however,  as  it  turned 
out,  could  not  have  been  selected.  It  conformed  to 
the  low,  waving  ridges  between  the  morasses,  offer- 
ing splendid  standing  ground,  and  was  almost  invis- 
ible until  within  forty  or  fifty  yards.  Ready  to  go 


184  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

ahead  or  ready  to  hold,  there  they  were  when  the 
quick,  sharp,  cracking  fire  of  the  skirmish-line  told 
them  that  the  Union’s  defenders  were  coming. 

Now  let  us  turn  to  Getty:  it  is  about  half  after 
four,  — that  hour  when  the  elms  in  the  northern 
meadows  were  beginning  to  lengthen,  the  cows  to 
feed  toward  the  bars,  the  thrushes,  in  the  thickets 
where  the  dog-tooth  violet  and  the  liverwort  bloom, 
to  strike  their  first  clear  ringing  notes,  and  the  benig- 
nant serenity  of  the  day’s  old  age  to  spread  over 
fields  and  flock-nibbled  pastures.  It  was  then  that 
the  men  from  the  North,  from  Pennsylvania,  New 
York,  and  far-away  Vermont,  heard  the  expected 
order  to  advance.  As  they  leap  over  the  breast- 
works, for  a moment  the  scarlet  in  their  colors  splash 
among  the  fresh  green  leaves  in  the  edge  of  the 
woods,  but  almost  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the 
lines  of  men  in  blue,  the  guns,  and  the  rippling  flags, 
disappear.  Soon  crash  after  crash  is  heard,  cheers, 
volleys,  and  more  wild  cheers,  and  in  a little  while 
gray  smoke  begins  to  sift  up  through  the  tree- tops; 
and  in  a little  while,  too,  pale,  bleeding  fellows,  limp- 
ing or  holding  a shattered  arm,  some  supported  by 
comrades,  others  borne  on  litters,,  begin  to  stream 
out  of  the  woods.  ^ 

Getty,  the  cool,  intellectually  broad-based  man, 
moved  forward  with  his  men ; between  him  and  them 
and  immediately  in  front  of  him  was  a section  (two 
guns)  of  Ricketts’s  Pennsylvania  battery.  Within 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  185 


less  than  a half-mile  his  troops  had  met  Heth’s  al- 
most face  to  face,  and  in  the  lengthening  shadows 
they  plunged  at  each  other.  Wheaton’s  men  on  the 
north  side  of  the  road  encountered  half  of  Cooke’s 
and  all  of  Davis’s  brigade  posted  on  the  hither  side 
of  the  tangled  morasses  already  mentioned,  and  in 
some  places,  at  not  more  than  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  apart,  they  poured  volley  after  volley  into  each 
other.  And  so  it  was  on  the  south  side  with  the  gal- 
lant Vermonters:  they,  too,  met  the  enemy  face  to 
face;  and  I have  no  doubt  that  the  traveling  stars 
and  roaming  night-winds  paused  and  listened  as  the 
peaks  in  the  Green  Mountains  called  to  each  other 
, that  night,  in  tearful  pride  of  the  boys  from  Vermont 
: who  were  lying  under  the  sullen  oaks  of  the  Wilder- 
, ness;  for  never,  never  had  they  shown  more  bravery 
or  met  with  bloodier  losses. 

Hays,  who  had  been  sent  just  as  the  action  began 
to  Getty’s  right,  after  having  double-quicked  to  his 
position,  rested  for  a moment  and  then  moved  for- 
ward, the  Seventeenth  Maine  on  his  extreme  right. 
As  Davis  reached  far  beyond  Wheaton’s  right,  Hays 
soon  came  up  against  him  and  joined  battle  at  once. 
Owing  to  the  nature  of  the  ground,  — the  zigzagging 
morasses  were  between  them,  — continuous  lines 
could  not  be  maintained  by  either  side,  and  the  re- 
sult was  that  wings  of  regiments  became  separated 
from  each  other;  but,  together  or  apart,  the  fighting 
was  desperate,  and  it  is  claimed  that  Hays’s  brigade 


186  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


lost  more  men  than  any  other  of  our  army  in  the  Wil- 
derness. Hays  himself  (a  classmate  of  Hancock,  both 
being  in  the  class  after  Grant’s)  during  a lull  rode 
down  the  line  of  battle  with  his  staff,  and  when  he 
reached  his  old  regiment,  the  Sixty-third  Pennsyl- 
vania, that  had  stood  by  him  so  gallantly  in  re- 
pulsing Pickett’s  charge,  he  stopped.  While  he  was 
speaking  a kindly  word,  a bullet  struck  him  just 
above  the  cord  of  his  hat,  crashing  into  his  brain; 
he  fell  from  his  horse  and  died  within  a few  hours, 
and  a braver  spirit  never  rose  from  any  field. 

When  Birney  sent  Hays  to  Getty’s  right,  he  led 
his  other  brigade  (Ward’s)  to  Getty’s  left.  As  soon 
as  Birney  moved,  Mott  was  ordered  by  Hancock  to 
go  directly  forward  with  his  two  brigades  from  the 
Brock  Road,  which  would  bring  him  up  on  Birney ’s 
left.  The  fighting  became  so  fierce  at  once  and  the 
musketry  so  deadly,  that  aide  soon  followed  aide  to 
Hancock,  who  was  posted  at  the  crossing,  from  Bir- 
ney, Getty,  Hays,  and  about  every  brigade  com- 
mander, calling  for  help.  At  4.30  Carroll  was  sent 
for  and  ordered  to  support  Birney,  who,  as  soon  as 
he  came  up,  advanced  him  to  the  right  of  the  Plank 
Road.  Owens’s  brigade  of  Gibbon’s  division  followed, 
and  was  put  in  on  the  left  and  right.  Brooke,  who  had 
the  rear  of  Hancock’s  column  as  they  moved  in  the 
morning,  and  had  been  halted  at  Welford’s  Furnace 
on  the  road  from  Chancellorsville  to  Todd’s  Tavern, 
made  his  way  as  fast  as  he  could  through  the  woods, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  TEE  WILDERNESS  187 


his  men  quickening  their  steps  as  the  volleys  grew 
louder;  he  reached  the  Brock  at  5.30  and  at  once 
pushed  into  the  fight,  joining  Smyth  of  Barlow’s  di- 
vision, who,  being  nearer,  had  proceeded  with  his 
gallant  Irish  brigade  to  the  line  of  battle  to  take 
the  place  of  one  of  Mott’s  brigades  that  had  barely 
confronted  the  enemy,  when,  receiving  a couple  of 
volleys  at  close  range,  panic  seized  it  and  it  broke 
badly,  unsteadying  for  a moment  the  troops  on  its 
right  and  left;  this  brigade  did  not  stop  till  it 
crouched  behind  the  breastworks  it  had  left  along 
the  road.  Miles’s  and  Franks’s  brigades  of  Barlow’s 
division  had  become  engaged  also. 

At  an  early  hour  in  the  afternoon,  Williams’s  North 
Carolina  Confederate  battery  of  Poague’s  artillery 
battalion  went  into  position  between  Widow  Tapp’s 
house  and  the  woods,  throwing  little  epaulements  in 
front  of  their  pieces.  As  soon  as  Heth  became  heavily 
engaged,  Lee,  who  was  close  by,  having  established 
his  headquarters  in  the  old  field,  sent  orders  to  Wil- 
cox to  return  at  once  to  the  Plank  Road,  — for  he 
could  not  mistake  what  the  volume  of  the  musketry 
meant,  — and  directed  Scales  and  McGowan  in  per- 
son to  go  to  Heth’s  support,  Crawford  meanwhile 
having  withdrawn  from  their  front,  to  within  a mile 
of  the  Lacy  house. 

When  McGowan  received  his  orders  his  brigade 
had  just  formed  in  the  Widow  Tapp  field,  and  the 
chaplain  of  the  First  South  Carolina  was  holding 


188  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


prayer.  And  there,  with  the  setting  sun  sweeping 
them,  the  roar  of  Heth’s  and  Getty’s  musketry 
breaking  on  them,  the  clergyman  in  front  of  the 
ranks,  their  heads  bowed  on  hands  grasped  one 
over  the  other  at  the  muzzle  of  their  guns,  he,  with 
uncovered  head,  palm  to  palm,  and  reverently  up- 
lifted face,  was  praying,  as  the  order  came  for 
them  to  go  to  Heth’s  support.  The  command, 
“Attention!”  rang  out,  the  officers’  swords  lifted 
quickly,  up  went  the  guns,  and  away  marched  the 
brigade. 

Wilcox,  on  receipt  of  the  urgent  orders,  set  his  two 
brigades,  Thomas’s  and  Lane’s,  in  quick  motion,  filed 
across  the  Chewning  farm  in  sight  of  the  signal  officers 
on  Crawford’s  new  line,  and  then  took  the  wood- 
road  — leaf-strewn  and  shadow-mottled  — that  joins 
Chewning’s  and  Widow  Tapp’s,  skirting  the  abrupt 
descents  to  Wilderness  Run.  Through  the  timber, 
and  over  the  tree-tops  in  the  valley,  he  caught  dis- 
tant views  of  Grant’s  headquarters  and  the  old 
Wilderness  Tavern.  He  caught  sight,  too,  of  Wads- 
worth moving  past  the  Lacy  house. 

Grant  and  Meade  happened  to  be  at  Warren’s 
headquarters  at  the  Lacy  house  as  our  signal  officers 
reported  the  march  of  Wilcox’s  column.  Grant  at 
once  ordered  a diversion  to  be  made  by  Warren 
against  Heth’s  flank  and  rear,  and  inferring  from 
Wilcox’s  move  that  Lee  was  detaching  from  Ewell, 
had  ordered  Warren  and  Sedgwick  to  renew  the  at- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  189 


tack  on  their  fronts  immediately.  Wadsworth,  terri- 
bly chagrined  over  the  conduct  of  his  division  in  the 
attack  up  the  Pike,  was  anxious  to  retrieve  the  re- 
putation of  his  troops,  and  asked  to  be  sent  against 
Heth.  Accordingly  Warren  sent  him  and  Baxter’s 
brigade  of  Robinson’s  division.  It  was  nearly  six 
o’clock  as  he  filed  down  across  the  fields,  Roebling 
leading  the  way. 

When  Wfilcox  reached  Lee  he  reported  to  him  what 
he  had  seen  through  the  timber,  and  Lee  sent  the 
following  despatch  at  once  to  Ewell:  — 

May  5,  1864,  6 p.  M. 

Lieutenant-General  Ewell, 

Commanding,  etc. 

General:  The  commanding  general  directs  me  to 
repeat  a message  sent  you  at  6 p.  m.  The  enemy  per- 
sist in  their  attack  on  General  Hill’s  right.  Several 
efforts  have  been  repulsed,  and  we  hold  our  own  as 
yet.  The  general  wishes  you  to  hurry  up  Ramseur, 
send  back  and  care  for  your  wounded,  fill  up  your 
ammunition,  and  be  ready  to  act  by  light  in  the  morn- 
ing. General  Longstreet  and  General  Anderson  are 
expected  up  early,  and  unless  you  see  some  means 
of  operating  against  their  right,  the  general  wishes 
you  to  be  ready  to  support  our  right.  It  is  reported 
that  the  enemy  is  massing  against  General  Hill,  and 
if  an  opportunity  presents  itself  and  you  can  get  Wil- 
derness Tavern  ridge  and  cut  the  enemy  off  from  the 
river,  the  general  wishes  it  done.  The  attack  on  Gen- 


190  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


eral  Hill  is  still  raging.  Be  ready  to  act  as  early  as 
possible  in  the  morning. 

Yours,  most  respectfully, 

C.  Marshall, 
Lieutenant-Colonel 
and  Aide-de-Camp. 

Of  all  the  despatches  in  the  War  Records  relating 
to  the  battle,  this  one  has  more  intrinsic  interest  than 
any  other  for  me.  It  not  only  coordinates  the  move- 
ments of  Wilcox,  Wadsworth,  and  Sedgwick,  but  it 
reveals  at  a flash  the  workings  of  the  minds  of  both 
Grant  and  Lee.  Let  us  revert  to  the  situation,  il- 
lumed by  the  light  it  throws. 

Grant  and  Meade,  accompanied  by  several  of  their 
staffs,  have  come  over  to  Warren’s  headquarters  at 
the  Lacy  house.  Grant  is  mounted  on  “Egypt,”  or 
“Cincinnati,”  a black-pointed,  velvety-eared,  high- 
bred bay,  and  Meade  with  drooping  hat,  on  his  old 
fox-walk,  “Baldy.”  While  on  the  lawn  under  the 
same  old  venerable  trees  that  are  dreaming  there 
still.  Grant  is  told  that  a signal  officer  on  Crawford’s 
line  has  just  seen  a column  of  troops  marching 
rapidly  toward  Heth,  — Locke’s  despatch  to  Hum- 
phreys confirming  the  news  is  dated  5.45  p.  m.;  with 
lightning  speed,  he  catches  the  significance  of  the 
news,  and  moves  Wadsworth  to  fall  on  Heth’s  flank, 
and  at  the  same  time  orders  Warren  and  Sedgwick 
to  strike  at  once  at  Ewell. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  191 


Wadsworth  is  hardly  on  his  way  before  Wilcox 
reaches  Lee  and  tells  him  what  he  had  seen  through 
the  timber.  Lee’s  inferences,  the  converse  of  Grant’s, 
flood  in  at  once:  Grant  is  weakening  his  line  in  front 
of  Ewell,  and,  as  the  volleys  come  rolling  up  one  after 
another  from  Heth  and  Getty,  Lee  tells  Ewell  to  make 
a dash  if  he  can  for  the  ridge  east  of  Wilderness  Run. 

Could  we  have  anything  better  than  these  orders 
to  show  the  clear-sightedness,  quick  resolution,  swift 
unhesitating  grasp,  and  high  mettle  of  both  Grant 
and  Lee?  their  instinctive  discernment  of  the  signifi- 
cance of  the  shifting  phases  of  battle?  Grant’s  in- 
domitable will  to  take  advantage  of  them;  Lee’s 
warrior  blood  boiling  with  the  first  whiff  of  the  smell 
of  battle,  and  his  tendency  to  throw  his  army  like  a 
thunderbolt  out  of  a cloud  at  his  adversary?  And,  by 
the  way,  that  smell  of  battle  always  set  Lee  ablaze, 
and  with  his  quick  comprehension  of  the  immediate 
moves  to  be  made,  augmented  by  the  warmth  of 
his  fiery  spirit,  I think,  was  the  source  of  the  influence 
he  shed  around  him  as  he  fought  a battle. 

Lee  had  some  advantages  over  Grant  that  after- 
noon. Grant  was  a stranger  to  his  army,  Lee  knew 
his,  and  his  army  knew  him;  Lee  was  where  he  could 
see  the  field.  Grant  where  he  could  not;  Lee  knew 
the  country  well.  Grant  had  never  before  entered 
its  fateful  labyrinth.  Moreover,  Lee  knew  what  he 
wanted  to  do,  what  the  fate  of  the  Confederacy 
called  on  him  to  do,  and  the  above  despatch  of 


192  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Colonel  Marshall’s,  ringing  with  its  resolute  purpose, 
tells  how  he  hoped  to  do  it. 

But,  but,  Colonel  Marshall,  allow  me  your  ear  for 
a moment:  there  is  a quiet,  modest,  blue-eyed,  me- 
dium-sized man  down  on  that  knoll  near  the  Lacy 
house,  — cut  a short  vista  through  these  pines  behind 
you,  and  you  can  see  where  he  is  in  the  distance, 
— whom  at  last  at  Appomattox  you  and  Lee  will 
meet;  and,  strangely  enough,  the  ink-bottle  you  are 
now  using  will  be  used  then  to  draw  the  terms  of 
surrender;  down  on  the  knoll  is  a gentle-voiced  man 
who  has  an  undismayable  heart  in  his  breast,  and 
he  will  meet  you  to-morrow  morning  when  Long- 
street,  Anderson,  and  Ramseur  have  come,  and 
every  morning  thereafter,  to  the  end  of  the  Rebel- 
lion, with  blow  for  blow. 

Wilcox’s  pregnant  interview  with  Lee  ended,  he 
put  Thomas’s  brigade  on  the  left  of  the  Plank  Road, 
and,  guided  by  the  continuous  roar  of  musketry,  it 
moved  forward  toward  Heth’s  battered  lines.  Lane’s 
brigade  was  to  form  on  Thomas’s  left,  but  just  as 
it  reached  Hill,  Scales,  on  Heth’s  right,  was  smashed, 
and  Colonel  Palmer  of  Hill’s  staff  led  it  thither. 

At  ten  minutes  of  six  — the  sun  dropping  toward 
the  tree-tops,  and  twilight,  owing  to  the  density  of 
the  woods,  gathering  fast  — Lyman,  who  had  stayed 
at  Hancock’s  side  to  give  Meade  timely  information 
as  to  the  progress  of  events,  reported:  “We  barely 
hold  our  own;  on  the  right  the  pressure  is  heavy. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  193 


General  Hancock  thinks  he  can  hold  the  Plank  and 
Brock  roads,  but  he  can’t  advance.” 

Between  half-past  five  and  six  o’clock  the  enemy  — 
McGowan’s  and  Kirkland’s  brigades  having  come 
in  to  relieve  Heth’s  exhausted  troops  in  front  of  Getty 
■ — charged,  and  for  a moment  planted  their  colors 
beside  one  of  the  guns  of  Ricketts’s  section,  whose 
horses  had  been  killed.  But  Grant’s  and  Wheaton’s 
lines,  although  thrust  back  momentarily  by  the  sud- 
den onslaught,  braced  and  drove  the  Confederates 
away  from  the  guns.  A little  later  Carroll  and  Owens, 
Brooke,  Smyth,  and  Miles  came  up,  and  relieved 
Grant,  Wheaton,  Hays,  and  Ward.  Carroll  then 
fought  his  way  in  the  twilight  fairly  across  the  now 
riddled  swamp,  sent  the  Eighth  Ohio  up  the  south 
and  the  Seventh  West  Virginia  up  the  north  side  of 
the  road,  beyond  the  disabled  section  where  Captain 
Butterworth  of  his  staff  and  Lieutenant  McKesson 
of  the  Eighth,  by  the  aid  of  squads  from  the  Eighth 
Ohio  and  Fourteenth  Indiana,  dragged  back  the  guns; 
Lieutenant  McKesson  receiving  a severe  wound. 

The  battle  raged  on.  Wheaton’s  men  on  the  north, 
and  the  Vermonters  on  the  other  or  south  side  of  the 
road,  with  Ward’s  brigade,  were  still  standing  up  to 
it,  although  suffering  terribly.  The  Confederates  in 
front  of  them  had  the  advantage  of  a slight  swell  in 
the  ground,  and  every  attempt  to  dislodge  them  had 
met  with  slaughter.  Birney  sent  a couple  of  regiments 
to  their  support.  About  sundown  the  commanding 


194  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


officer  of  the  Fifth  Vermont  was  asked  if  he  thought, 
with  the  help  of  Birney’s  men,  he  could  break  the 
enemy’s  line.  “I  think  we  can,”  replied  the  stout- 
hearted man.  And  when  Birney’s  men  were  asked 
if  they  would  give  their  support,  they  answered,  “We 
will,”  with  a cheer.  And  again  they  went  at  the 
enemy’s  line,  which  partially  gave  way  — it  was 
probably  Scales;  but  so  dense  were  the  woods  that 
a break  at  one  point  had  mighty  little  moral  effect 
to  the  right  or  left,  with  troops  as  steady  as  theirs 
and  ours. 

When  Palmer  got  back  to  the  road  there  he  found 
Stuart  and  Colonel  Venable  of  Lee’s  staff  sitting  on 
their  horses  in  the  dusk,  and  told  them  that  Lane 
had  become  engaged.  Venable  exclaimed,  “Thank 
God!  I’ll  go  back  and  tell  Lee  that  Lane  has  gone 
in,  and  the  lines  will  be  held.” 

Yes,  and  here  is  what  he  met,  so  says  the  report 
of  the  Sixty-sixth  New  York:  “The  rebels  came 
marching  by  the  flank,  distant  about  ten  paces.  It 
being  dark,  they  were  at  first  taken  for  friends,  but 
the  illusion  was  soon  dispelled,  and  Colonel  Ham- 
mell  gave  the  order  to  fire,  which  was  promptly 
executed,  with  fatal  effect.  It  proved  to  be  the 
Seventh  North  Carolina.”  The  report  adds  that 
they  advanced  again  in  line  of  battle,  but  were  re- 
pulsed, leaving  their  dead  and  wounded.  But  they 
did  hold  the  lines. 

The  sun  having  gone  down,  darkness  soon  settled 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  195 


around  them  all,  but  the  struggle  did  not  end.  Never 
was  better  grit  shown  by  any  troops.  They  could  not 
see  each  other  and  their  positions  were  disclosed  only 
by  the  red,  angry  flashes  of  their  guns.  Their  line 
stretched  from  about  two-thirds  of  a mile  north  of 
the  Plank  Road  to  a distance  of  a mile  and  a half 
south  of  it.  And  so,  shrouded  in  the  smoke,  and  stand- 
ing or  kneeling  among  their  dead,  both  sides  kept  on. 
All  other  sounds  having  died  away,  the  forest  now  at 
every  discharge  roared  deeply. 

“All  during  that  terrible  afternoon,”  wrote  the 
historian  of  the  Forty-sixth  North  Carolina,  Cooke’s 
brigade,  “the  regiment  held  its  own,  now  gaining, 
now  losing,  resting  at  night  on  the  ground  over  which 
it  had  fought,  surrounded  by  the  dead  and  wounded 
of  both  sides.”  The  Fifty-fifth  North  Carolina  in 
Davis’s  brigade  that  had  fought  Hays  took  into  the 
action  340  men.  At  the  end  of  the  battle  it  is  related 
in  their  history  that  “34  lay  dead  on  the  line  where 
we  fought,  and  167  were  wounded.  They  were  on 
one  side  of  a morass  and  we  on  the  other.”  The  his- 
torian asserts  that  the  sergeant  of  the  Confederate 
ambulance  corps  counted  157  dead  Federals  the  fol- 
lowing day  along  their  brigade-front.  “The  record 
of  that  day  of  butchery,”  says  the  same  authority, 
“has  often  been  written.  A butchery  pure  and  sim- 
ple, it  was  unrelieved  by  any  of  the  arts  of  war  in 
which  the  exercise  of  military  skill  and  tact  robs  war 
of  some  of  its  horrors.” 


196  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


“At  one  time  during  the  fighting  of  the  fifth,”  ac- 
cording to  the  historian  of  the  Eleventh  North  Caro- 
lina, Kirkland’s  brigade,  “the  brigade  lay  down 
behind  a line  of  dead  Federals  so  thick  as  to  form 
partial  breastworks,  showing  how  stubbornly  they 
had  fought  and  how  severely  they  had  suffered.” 
This  statement  seems  almost  incredible,  but  it  will 
not  be  forgotten  that  Kirkland  was  in  reserve  when 
the  action  began  and  was  not  called  on  till  late,  so 
that,  as  the  brigade  went  in  with  McGowan,  the  men 
had  a chance  to  see  the  death  and  destruction  that 
had  taken  place.  This  brigade,  out  of  1753,  lost  1080. 
(The  night  before  Lee’s  army  was  forced  formally 
to  lay  down  its  arms  and  give  up  its  colors  at  Appo- 
mattox, the  survivors  of  the  Eleventh  North  Caro- 
lina of  the  above-mentioned  brigade  took  the  old  flag 
which  they  had  borne  at  the  Wilderness,  into  a clump 
of  young  pines,  and  there,  collecting  some  fagots, 
gathered  sadly  about  it  in  the  darkness  and  burned 
it.) 

At  the  close  of  the  battle  this  regiment  and  all  the 
other  regiments  of  Heth’s  and  Wilcox’s  divisions 
were  staggering,  and  it  is  highly  probable  that  if  the 
engagement  had  begun  an  hour  or  so  earlier,  defeat 
would  have  overtaken  them.  Or,  had  Wadsworth 
been  sent  earlier,  the  chances  are  that  Ileth  could  not 
have  withstood  his  flank  attack. 

There  was  no  engagement  during  the  war  where 
the  private  soldiers  of  the  army  showed  greater  valor 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  197 


than  up  the  Plank  Road  that  afternoon.  Bear  in 
mind  that  they  did  all  their  fighting  amid  the  um- 
brage and  terror  of  the  woods,  and  not  under  the  eye 
of  a single  general  officer;  not  one  in  twenty  could  see 
his  colors  or  his  colonel.  There  was  none  of  the  in- 
spiration of  an  open  field  with  stirring  scenes.  No, 
they  fought  the  battle  alone,  their  only  companion 
the  sense  of  Duty  who  was  saying  to  them,  to  those 
obscure  boys  from  the  Green  Mountains  of  Vermont, 
from  Connecticut,  Pennsylvania,  New  York,  and 
Ohio:  “Stand  fast  for  your  country,  stand  fast  for 
the  glory  of  the  old  home,  for  the  honor  of  the  gray- 
haired father  and  mother.”  Let  garlands  be  given, 
too,  to  Heth’s  and  Wilcox’s  men,  and  if  I were  the 
son  of  one  who  stood  there  that  day  under  the  ban- 
ner of  the  Confederacy,  I ’d  feel  proud  of  my  blood. 

At  last,  about  eight  o’clock,  the  volleys  that  had 
been  so  thundering  and  dreadful  stopped  almost 
suddenly.  [No  one  who  was  with  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  that  night  will  ever  forget  the  immediate 
silence;  Getty’s  and  Birney’s  scarred  and  well-tried 
veterans  were  led  back  to  the  Brock  Road,  and 
there,  beside  its  lonely,  solemn  way,  they  lay  down 
and  rested.  And  what  is  this  movement  of  mind  and 
heart?  It  is  imagination  lifting  the  veil  from  the 
inner  eye,  and  lo!  we  see  Honor  proudly  standing 
guard  over  them  all. 

Getty’s  division  on  that  day  and  the  next  met  with 
the  heaviest  loss  experienced  by  any  division  during 


198  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


the  war,  and  his  Vermont  brigade  of  this  division  lost 
more  men  on  that  afternoon  of  the  fifth  than  the  en- 
tire Second  Corps.  Of  the  officers  present  for  duty, 
three-fourths  were  killed  or  wounded. 

There  is  no  occurrence  of  the  day  that  I remember 
with  more  distinctness  than  the  setting  off  of  Wads- 
worth’s command  that  afternoon.  I can  see  the  men 
now  moving  down  the  field  in  column  to  the  road, 
and  then  following  it  up  the  run  for  a piece  toward 
Parker’s  store.  They  formed  in  two  lines  of  battle 
and  entered  the  swampy  tangles,  guided  by  Colonel 
Roebling.  Their  progress,  trammeled  by  the  nature 
of  the  woods,  was  slow;  within  a half-mile  or  so  they 
struck  the  skirmishers  of  Thomas’s  brigade  of  Wil- 
cox’s division,  who  had  just  been  posted  on  Heth’s 
left.  Wadsworth  pushed  them  steadily  back,  till 
darkness  came  on  and  he  had  to  halt.  The  extreme 
right  of  his  line  was  now  nearly  at  the  foot  of  the 
abrupt  slopes  running  down  from  the  Widow  Tapp’s 
old  field,  his  left  perhaps  three-quarters  of  a mile 
from  the  Brock  Road.  His  front  was  parallel  to  the 
Plank  Road,  a half  to  five-eighths  of  a mile  from  it, 
the  ground  about  him  broken  and  the  woods  very 
dense;  and  there,  on  the  dead  leaves  and  among 
spice-bushes,  spring  beauties,  violets  and  dogwoods 
in  bloom,  they  passed  the  solemn  night  through.  The 
men  say,  however,  as  well  as  those  on  Hancock’s 
lines,  that  they  were  restless;  their  position  had  been 
reached  practically  in  the  dark,  and  they  were  so 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  199 


close  to  the  enemy  that  both  spoke  in  whispers,  and 
all  realized  the  inevitable  renewal  of  the  struggle  in 
the  morning.  Roebling  got  back  to  the  Lacy  house, 
his  most  valuable  notes  tell  me,  about  nine  o’clock. 

When  Wadsworth  was  moving  toward  Hancock, 
Russell’s  and  Brown’s  brigade  of  the  first  division 
of  the  Sixth  Corps,  on  the  extreme  right  of  the  line 
beyond  Griffin  and  Upton,  made  and  received  coun- 
ter and  vigorous  attacks  on  Ewell’s  left,  the  Confed- 
erate brigades  commanded  by  Stafford,  Pegram,  and 
Hayes.  Stafford  was  mortally  and  Pegram  very  se- 
verely wounded,  and  the  Twenty -fifth  Virginia  of 
Jones’s  brigade,  which  had  been  transferred  to  the 
extreme  left  along  with  Gordon’s,  lost  its  colors  and 
over  two  hundred  men  to  the  Fifth  Wisconsin  of  Rus- 
sell’s brigade. 

And  here  may  I be  allowed  to  say  that  all  the  flags 
save  one  captured  from  the  enemy  in  the  Wilderness 
were  taken  by  western  regiments.  The  Twenty-fourth 
Michigan  captured  the  colors  of  the  Forty-eighth 
Virginia,  the  Fifth  Wisconsin  those  of  the  Twenty- 
fifth,  the  Twentieth  Indiana  those  of  the  Fifty-fifth, 
the  Seventh  Indiana  those  of  the  Fiftieth  Virginia; 
the  Fifth  Michigan  those  of  the  Thirteenth  North 
Carolina.  The  Eighth  Ohio  and  the  Fourteenth  In- 
diana retook  Ricketts’s  guns.  The  men  from  the  West 
were  probably  no  braver,  man  for  man,  than  those 
of  the  East;  but  I think  their  success  was  wholly  be- 
cause so  many  of  the  men  were  woods-wise.  From 


200  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


their  youth  up,  both  by  day  and  by  night,  they  had 
roamed  through  woods  under  all  sorts  of  sky  and  in 
all  sorts  of  weather,  and  so  their  depths  had  no  ter- 
ror for  them;  like  their  enemies,  they  were  at  home 
in  the  timber,  and  could  make  their  way  through  it 
almost  as  well  by  night  as  by  day.  And  I have  often 
thought  that  perhaps  it  was  this  common  knowledge 
of  the  woods  that  gave  our  western  armies  so  many 
victories.  A Confederate  line  coming  on,  or  rising 
up  suddenly  and  breaking  into  their  sharp,  fierce 
yells,  did  not  greatly  surprise  or  set  them  quaking. 
And  yet,  although  all  my  boyhood  was  passed  in  the 
grandly  deep,  primeval  forests  of  Ohio,  I am  free  to 
own  that  I never  heard  that  “Rebel”  yell  in  the 
woods  of  Virginia  that  its  old  fields  behind  us  did  not 
seem  at  once  to  become  mightily  attractive. 

Reference  should  be  made,  as  a part  of  the  day’s 
serious  history,  to  the  cavalry  engagements  under 
Wilson  and  Gregg.  The  former’s  encounter  with 
Rosser  and  Fitz  Lee  has  been  mentioned;  it  was  se- 
vere, and  "Wilson,  overpowered,  had  to  take  his  way 
as  best  he  could  to  Gregg  at  Todd’s  Tavern,  who 
bristled  up,  and  with  Davies’s  brigade,  the  First 
New  Jersey  and  First  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  met 
the  confident  pursuing  enemy  and  drove  them  back 
to  Corbin’s  bridge,  but  only  after  a loss  of  ninety- 
odd  killed  and  wounded. 

When  night  and  exhaustion  put  an  end  to  the  fell 
struggle  between  Hancock  and  Hill,  it  may  be  said 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  201 


that  the  first  day  of  the  battle  of  the  Wilderness  was 
over.  And  what  a day  it  had  been ! Where  now  were 
the  plans,  hopes,  and  roseate  forecasts  which  the 
self-reliant  natures  of  both  Grant  and  Lee  had  made, 
as  they  were  looking  forward  to  it  the  night  before? 
All  transmuted  into  solemn,  speechful  reality.  Grant 
had  telegraphed  Halleck  as  soon  as  he  had  crossed 
the  Rapidan  safely:  “Forty-eight  hours  now  will 
demonstrate  whether  the  enemy  intends  giving  bat- 
tle this  side  of  Richmond.”  With  his  intuitive  wis- 
dom, he  had  predicted  truly;  yet,  as  a matter  of  fact, 
he  did  not  know  or  care  when  or  where  the  battle 
should  begin.  He  meant  to  find  Lee,  clinch,  and  have 
it  out  with  him  for  good  and  all,  wholly  undisturbed 
as  usual  over  possible  results.  And  behold,  the  day 
had  banished  the  uncertainties  of  the  night  before, 
and  had  brought  him  just  where  he  had  wanted  to  be, 
in  conflict  with  his  famous  adversary. 

But,  imperturbable  as  he  was,  I feel  sure  it  had 
brought  some  disappointment  to  him,  — not  be- 
cause Lee  had  obviously  the  best  of  it,  but  because 
he  himself  had  discovered  the  Army  of  the  Potomac’s 
one  weakness,  the  lack  of  springy  formation,  and  au- 
dacious, self-reliant  initiative.  This  organic  weak- 
ness was  entirely  due  to  not  having  had  in  its  youth 
skillfully  agressive  leadership.  Its  early  commanders 
had  dissipated  war’s  best  elixir  by  training  it  into  a 
life  of  caution,  and  the  evil  of  that  schooling  it  had 
shown  on  more  than  one  occasion,  and  unmistakably 


202  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


that  day,  and  it  had  had  to  suffer  for  it.  But  never, 
on  that  day  or  any  other,  did  an  army  carry  its  bur- 
dens of  every  kind,  and  it  had  many,  with  a steadier 
or  a more  steadfast  heart. 

But  I had  better  leave  the  battle’s  tactics  to  those 
who  make  a special  study  of  military  campaigns,  ven- 
turing the  following  personal  incident  for  the  con- 
sideration of  those  young,  cocksure  critics  who  have 
never  been  in  a big  or  a little  battle,  and  who  are 
surprised  at  the  mistakes  that  Grant  and  Lee  made, 
and  contemplate  with  supreme  satisfaction  what 
would  have  happened  had  they  been  there  and  in 
command  of  either  army.  One  night,  some  time  in 
the  winter  before  we  started  for  the  Wilderness,  when 
I was  dining  with  Duane,  Turnbull,  Michler,  and 
Mackenzie  of  the  engineers,  in  their  spacious  pine- 
bough-decorated  mess  room,  they  discussed  Burn- 
side’s hesitation  when  Mr.  Lincoln,  having  finally  made 
up  his  mind  to  relieve  McClellan,  offered  him  the  com- 
mand of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  I listened  a while, 
and  then  piped  up  that  Burnside  should  not  have 
had  any  such  doubts  of  himself,  that  he  had  been 
educated  for  that  business  and  kind  of  emergency, 
that  it  was  n’t  very  much  of  a job,  etc.,  and  wound 
up  — the  bottle  had  moved  faithfully,  yet  with  gen- 
teel moderation  — that  if  I were  offered  the  command 
I ’d  take  it.  Whereupon  my  astounded  listeners  flung 
themselves  back  in  their  chairs  and  there  was  some- 
thing between  a howl  and  a roar  of  laughter  as  they 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  203 


threw  their  eyes,  filled  with  pity  and  humor,  across 
and  down  the  table  at  a mere  snip  of  a thin-faced 
boy.  Well,  of  course,  I stuck  to  it  — I should  have 
taken  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

Now  if,  at  the  end  of  that  first  night,  say  at  nine 
o’clock,  Mr.  Grant  should  have  sent  for  me  and  said, 
“I’m  thinking  of  assigning  you  to  the  independent 
command  of  one  of  the  empty  ambulances,”  — let 
alone  turning  the  command  of  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac over  to  me,  — “and  want  you  to  get  it  safely 
out  of  this,”  I think  I should  have  said,  “Mr.  Grant, 
I’m  not  very  experienced  in  handling  ambulances, 
and  if  you  can  get  anybody  else  I’ll  not  object,”  so 
dark  was  the  outlook  and  so  deeply  had  I been  im- 
pressed by  the  responsibilities  that  encompassed 
him. 

Dear  military  critics,  however  vast  may  be  your 
knowledge  of  the  art  of  war,  and  however  boldly  your 
youthful  confidence  may  buckle  on  its  sword  and 
parade  to  the  imaginary  music  of  battle,  let  me  tell 
you  that  if  you  are  ever  on  a field  where  your  coun- 
try’s life  is  hanging  as  ours  hung  on  Grant’s,  or  as 
the  cause  of  the  South  hung  on  Lee’s  shoulders,  I’ll 
guarantee  that  you  will  not  volunteer  to  take  the 
command  of  anything,  but  will  wonder  that  more 
mistakes  are  not  made. 

And  here  answer  might  be  given  to  the  inquiry 
which  is  often  raised,  coming  sometimes  from  those 
who  have  been  carried  away  by  delving  in  the  tac- 


204  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


tics  of  battle,  and  sometimes  from  those  who  have 
become  warmly  interested  in  its  history:  namely, 
what  did  the  officers  at  corps  and  army  headquar- 
ters have  to  say  about  it  among  themselves  during 
its  progress,  and  especially  at  the  close  of  that  first 
day  in  the  Wilderness.  In  the  sense  in  which  the 
question  is  asked,  nothing,  absolutely  nothing.  For 
who  could  possibly  have  penetrated  the  rapidly 
evolving  events  and  seen  what  the  critic  sees  now 
so  clearly?  Who  could  have  told  us  where  the  gaps 
lay  between  Ewell  and  Hill,  where  Longstreet  was, 
and  the  importance  of  bringing  Burnside’s  two  divi- 
sions up  to  the  Lacy  farm  that  afternoon  so  as  to 
be  ready  for  the  next  morning? 
f It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  for  officers  or  men 
to  discuss  or  pass  judgment  upon  the  events  and 
conduct  of  a battle  would  be  death  to  discipline,  and 
instead  of  an  army,  the  country  would  be  relying 
for  its  life  upon  a mob.  In  all  my  service  with  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  from  Chancellorsville  to 
Petersburg,  sometimes  in  the  eclipse  of  defeat,  some- 
times in  the  very  verge  of  yawning  disaster,  never 
did  I hear  discussion,  or  more  than  barely  a word 
of  criticism  or  protest,  over  any  feature  of  a cam- 
paign, except  after  Cold  Harbor,  and  then  only  for 
a day.  Soldiers  and  officers  see  so  little  of  the  field 
that  they  do  not  give  weight  to  their  immediate  sur- 
roundings or  experience. 

The  question  of  what  the  officers  at  headquarters 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  205 


said  to  each  other  about  the  battle  in  its  progress, 
and  how  they  felt,  is  a very  natural  one,  and  its  an- 
swer may  be  a minor  but  essential  part  of  the  story 
itself.  I do  not  know  what  Grant,  Meade,  Rawlins, 
and  Seth  Williams  may  have  said  to  each  other,  or 
what  they  may  have  talked  about,  but  whenever 
an  aide  came  back  from  the  front  and  had  reported 
to  the  General  or  chief  of  staff,  he  would  take  his 
place  among  his  fellows,  and  their  first  question 
would  be,  “Where  have  you  been.  Bob,  or  Tom,  or 
Mack,”  “ how  is  it  going  up  there,  old  fellow?” 
For  every  one,  from  the  time  the  battle  began,  was 
keen  to  learn  its  progress.  “Been  up  [or  over]  to 

lines.  They  are  holding  their  own  mighty  well 

— Colonel  So-and-So  [or  our  dear  little  ‘Dad,’  or 
Bill]  has  just  been  killed  — old  General ’s  com- 

mand is  catching  perfect  h — 1,  say,  fellers,  where 
can  I get  something  to  eat  [or  drink],  I’m  hungry 
[or  dry]  as  the  dickens.”  That  is  about  a fair  sam- 
ple of  the  conversation  at  headquarters  while  a bat- 
tle is  going  on,  so  far  as  my  experience  goes. 

For  the  information  of  those  who  have  followed 
the  paths  of  peace,  let  me  say,  without  seeming  di- 
dactic, that  the  commanding  general  and  his  corps 
commanders  are  rarely  where  the  artists  have  depic- 
ted them,  on  rearing  horses,  leading  or  directing  amid 
a sheet  of  fire.  There  are  times,  however,  when  the 
artist  is  true  to  life:  as  when  Sheridan,  seeing  Ayres 
and  his  Regulars  recoiling  for  a moment  under  ter- 


206  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


rific  fire  at  Five  Forks,  dashed  in;  and  there  and  then 
with  those  flashing  eyes,  amid  the  smoke  of  battle,  he 
might  have  been  painted.  And  so  too,  Warren,  for 
that  same  day  he  seized  the  colors  on  another  part 
of  the  field,  and  led  on.  But,  as  a rule,  the  corps  com- 
mander chooses  a position  where  he  can  best  see 
his  troops  as  they  engage.  The  test  of  his  genius  is 
in  choosing  the  critical  moment  when  he  will  join 
them,  and  I ’d  suggest  to  my  old  Alma  Mater,  West 
Point,  that  it  should  impress  upon  its  future  generals 
the  importance  of  catching  the  crisis  in  a battle  and 
showing  them  the  weight  of  their  presence  with 
their  troops.  In  that  glowing  characteristic  Sheri- 
dan rose  above  about  all  of  our  commanders.  Sup- 
pose McClellan  had  shown  himself  and  ridden  his 
lines  at  Gaines’s  Mill,  or  Bragg  at  Chickamauga, 
might  not  the  outcome  have  been  different?  Owing 
to  the  nature  of  the  Wilderness,  Grant  had  few 
chances  to  seize  opportunities  of  that  kind.  At 
Spottsylvania,  the  night  Upton  was  making  his  as- 
sault and  breaking  their  lines  temporarily,  he  was 
close  up,  and  I sat  my  horse  not  far  from  him. 
There  were  two  or  three  lines  of  battle  within  thirty 
or  forty  paces  of  each  other  and  of  him.  The  fire 
that  reached  us  was  considerable;  an  orderly  carry- 
ing the  headquarters  standard  was  killed,  and  a 
solid  shot  struck  an  oak  five  or  six  inches  through, 
squarely,  not  thirty  feet  from  us,  shivering  it  into 
broom  slivers;  but  through  it  all  Grant  wore  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  207 


same  unperturbed,  quiet,  but  somewhat  pleading 
face. 

But,  to  return  to  the  Wilderness  and  the  impress 
sions  it  made,  it  goes  without  saying  that  the  first 
day  was  a disappointing  one,  and  that  the  desperate 
character  of  the  fighting  and  the  attendant  losses 
had  stamped  themselves  deeply.  There  was  no  de- 
jection, however,  the  army  from  top  to  bottom  was 
looking  forward  to  the  coming  day’s  trial  with  reso- 
lution and  hope. 

Notwithstanding  that  Lee  had  repulsed  Warren 
and  had  badly  shaken  the  morale  of  his  entire  corps, 
and  also  that  of  Mott’s  division  of  Hancock’s  corps, 
had  held  Sedgwick  in  check,  fought  Hancock  and 
Getty  to  a standstill,  thrown  Wilson  back,  and  brought 
the  formidable  movement  up  with  a sudden  jarring 
stop,  yet  seemingly  Grant  at  the  close  of  the  day  — 
and  I saw  him  once  or  twice  — was  not  troubled, 
and  he  issued  orders  with  the  same  even,  softly  warm 
voice,  to  attack  Lee  impetuously  early  the  next  morn- 
ing all  along  his  line. 

If  the  day  had  brought  some  disappointments 
and  anxious  foreshadowings  to  Grant,  it  must  have 
brought  some  to  Lee  also.  For  he  had  hoped  that 
when  Grant  should  find  him  on  his  flank  ready  to 
take  the  offensive,  that  he,  like  Hooker,  would  be- 
come confused  and  undecided,  thereby  giving  Long- 
street  and  the  rest  of  his  forces  time  to  come  up, 
and  to  repeat  Chancellorsville.  The  results  of  the 


208  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


day  had  put  another  face  on  his  hopes.  Grant  was 
neither  undecided  nor  confused;  he  had  made  a 
savage  drive  at  him,  and  when,  at  eleven  o’clock  that 
night,  all  the  news  had  come  in,  Lee  undoubtedly 
was  duly  thankful  that  he  had  held  his  own,  as  his 
despatch  to  the  Confederate  Secretary  of  War  dated 
at  that  hour  shows.  He  said  in  reporting  the  day’s 
doings:  — 

“By  the  blessing  of  God,  we  maintained  our  po- 
sition against  every  effort  until  night,  when  the  con- 
test closed.  We  have  to  mourn  the  loss  of  many  brave 
officers  and  men.  The  gallant  Brigadier-General 
J.  M.  Jones  was  killed,  and  Brig.-Gen.  L.  A.  Staf- 
ford I fear  mortally  wounded  while  leading  his  com- 
mand with  conspicuous  valor.” 

His  greatest  blessings,  however,  were  that  Warren 
was  not  allowed  to  wait  till  Wright  came  up,  that 
Getty  had  not  attacked  an  hour  earlier,  and  that  we 
had  not  seized  and  held  the  Chewning  farm. 

When  the  firing  ceased  on  Hancock’s  front,  to 
those  of  us  around  the  Lacy  house  and  at  Grant’s 
headquarters  the  silence  was  heavy  and  awesome. 
But  soon  the  stars  were  shining  softly  and  the  mer- 
ciful quiet  of  night  came  on;  and  wheresoever  a mor- 
tally wounded  man  could  be  reached  who  was  crying 
for  water  and  help,  — some  of  them  in  high,  wild  de- 
lirious screams  of  despair  and  agony,  others  with  just 
enough  breath  left  to  be  heard,  alas!  too  often,  only 
by  the  bushes  around  them,  — surgeons  and  friendly 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  209 


comrades,  and  sometimes  their  foes,  stole  to  them 
and  did  all  they  could  for  them. 

I wonder  what  was  going  on  in  the  breast  of  the 
Spirit  of  the  Wilderness  as  the  woods  darkened.  I 
wonder,  too,  as  the  spirits  of  those  youths  rose  above 
the  tree-tops  all  through  that  night,  I wonder  if  they 
asked  which  was  right  and  which  was  wrong  as  they 
bore  on,  a great  flight  of  them,  toward  Heaven’s  gate. 
On  and  on  they  go,  following  the  road  Christ  made 
for  us  all,  past  moon  and  stars,  — the  air  is  growing 
balmy,  landscapes  of  eternal  heavenly  beauty  are 
appearing;  in  the  soft  breezes  that  kiss  their  faces 
there  is  the  faint  odor  of  wild  grapes  in  bloom,  and 
lo!  they  hear  a choir  singing,  “Peace  on  earth,  good 
will  toward  men!”  And  two  by  two  they  lock  arms 
like  college  boys  and  pass  in  together;  and  so  may  it 
be  for  all  of  us  at  last. 

After  supper,  which  did  not  take  place  until  the 
day’s  commotion  had  well  quieted  down,  I happened 
to  go  into  the  Lacy  house,  and  in  the  large,  high- 
ceiled  room  on  the  left  of  the  hall  was  Warren,  seated 
on  one  side  of  a small  table,  with  Locke,  his  adjutant 
general,  and  Milhau,  his  chief  surgeon,  on  the  other, 
making  up  a report  of  his  losses  of  the  day.  Warren 
was  still  wearing  his  yellow  sash,  his  hat  rested  on 
the  table,  and  his  long,  coal-black  hair  was  stream- 
ing away  from  his  finely  expressive  forehead,  the 
only  feature  rising  unclouded  above  the  habitual 
gloom  of  his  duskily  sallow  face.  A couple  of  tallow 


210  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


candles  were  burning  on  the  table,  and  on  the  high 
mantel  a globe  lantern.  Locke  and  Milhau  were  both 
small  men:  the  former  unpretentious,  much  reflect- 
ing, and  taciturn;  the  latter  a modest  man,  and  a 
great  friend  of  McClellan’s,  with  a naturally  rippling, 
joyous  nature. 

Just  as  I passed  them,  I heard  Milhau  give  a figure, 
his  aggregate  from  data  which  he  had  gathered  at 
the  hospitals.  “It  will  never  do,  Locke,  to  make  a 
showing  of  such  heavy  losses,”  quickly  observed  War- 
ren. It  was  the  first  time  I had  ever  been  present 
when  an  official  report  of  this  kind  was  being  made, 
and  in  my  unsophisticated  state  of  West  Point  truth- 
fulness it  drew  my  eyes  to  Warren’s  face  with  wonder, 
and  I can  see  its  earnest,  mournfully  solemn  lines  yet. 
It  is  needless  to  say  that  after  that  I always  doubted 
reports  of  casualties  until  officially  certified. 

Shortly  after,  Warren,  accompanied  by  Roebling, 
went  to  a conference  of  the  corps  commanders  which 
Meade  had  called  to  arrange  for  the  attack  which 
Grant  had  already  ordered  to  be  made  at  4.30  the 
next  morning. 

I passed  through  the  house,  and  out  to  the  place 
where  the  horses  were,  in  charge  of  the  orderlies.  I 
found  mine  among  others  in  the  semi-darkness  of 
one  of  the  open  sheds  of  the  old  plantation’s  cluster- 
ing barns,  gave  him  the  usual  friendly  pat,  and  stroked 
his  silky  neck  as  he  daintily  selected  from  the  remain- 
ing wisps  of  his  ration  of  hay. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  211 


All  the  space  between  the  garden,  the  back  of  the 
house,  and  the  barns,  was  loosely  occupied  by  the 
bivouacs  of  the  headquarters  orderlies,  clerks,  team- 
sters, officers’  servants,  cooks  and  waiters  of  the  va- 
rious messes,  provost-guards,  etc.,  who  on  a campaign 
form  quite  a colony  about  corps  and  army  headquar- 
ters. The  soldiers,  in  groups  of  two  or  three,  were 
sitting  around  their  little  dying  fires,  smoking;  some 
with  overcoat  and  hat  for  a pillow,  already  asleep. 
The  black  cooks,  coatless  and  bareheaded,  were 
puttering  around  their  pot  and  kettle  fires,  with  the 
usual  attendant  circle  of  waiters  sitting  on  their 
haunches,  some  with  their  long,  sinewy  arms  embrac- 
ing languidly  their  uplifted  knees,  eyes  of  some  on  the 
fire,  chins  of  some  on  their  breasts  and  eyes  closed, 
all  drowsily  listening  to  some  one’s  childlike  chatter; 
others  on  their  backs,  feet  towards  the  fire,  and  snor- 
ing loudly.  And  around  them  all,  and  scattered  about, 
are  the  baggage  and  supply-wagons,  their  bowed 
white  canvas  tops,  although  mildewed  and  dirty, 
dimly  looming,  outlined  by  being  the  resting-place 
for  stray  beams  wandering  through  the  night.  The 
mule  teams,  unhitched  but  still  harnessed,  stand 
facing  each  other  across  the  wagon-pole  where  their 
deep  feed-box  is  still  resting.  Some  are  nosing  in  it 
for  an  overlooked  kernel  of  oats  or  corn,  or  a taste 
of  salt,  some  among  the  bits  of  forage  that  have  fallen 
to  the  ground,  some  nodding.  Their  driver  is  asleep 
in  or  under  the  wagon,  and  his  rest  unbroken  by  the 


212  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


every-once-in-a-while  quick  rattling  of  the  looped-up 
trace-chains,  as  one  of  his  mules  lets  drive  a vicious 
kick  right  or  left  at  its  army  mate. 

All  up  and  down  Wilderness  Run,  all  over  the  once 
tilled  fields  of  the  Lacy  farm  and  the  old,  gullied,  pine 
and  brier-tufted  ones  uplifting  east  of  the  run,  little 
fires  are  blinking  as  they  burn  low.  Some  are  those  of 
batteries,  some  of  trains,  and  some,  at  the  top  of  the 
ridge,  those  of  the  hospitals  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  where 
the  surgeons,  with  rolled-up  sleeves,  are  at  their 
humane  tasks  in  the  operating  tents,  instruments  by 
them  which  they  handle  with  skill  and  mercy,  as  one 
after  another  the  mutilated  and  perforated  bodies 
of  the  boys  who  have  been  willing  to  risk  their  lives 
for  the  country  are  brought  in  and  laid  on  the  table 
before  them,  their  anxious  eyes  scrutinizing  the  sur- 
geon’s face  for  a sign  of  hope  as  he  examines  their 
wounds  and  feels  their  fluttering  pulses.  Heaven  bless 
their  memory,  all  of  them,  and  wherever  the  dust 
of  one  of  them  lies,  I know  the  feeling  mother  earth 
holds  it  tenderly. 

And  now,  reader,  it  is  drawing  late.  Great,  majes- 
tic, and  magnanimous  Night  has  come  down,  cover- 
ing the  Wilderness  and  us  all  in  mysterious  silence. 
Let  us  take  a couple  of  these  folding  camp-chairs 
and  go  out  and  sit  in  the  starlight  on  the  lawn  of  the 
old  Lacy  house.  Here  is  my  tobacco-pouch;  fill  your 
pipe,  and  I ’ll  try  to  convey  to  you  the  situation  at 
this  hour  on  the  field,  and  then  we  will  turn  in.  There 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  213 


are  one  or  two  incidents  that  I ’d  like  to  tell  you  also, 
and  if  I forget  to  mention  them  as  I go  along,  I wish, 
before  I get  through,  that  you  would  jog  my  memory. 

Meade’s  commodious  living  tents  are  pitched  on 
the  east  side  of  the  Germanna  Road,  directly  oppo- 
site the  knoll  which  he  and  Grant  have  occupied  all 
day.  Grant’s  are  at  the  foot  of  the  knoll,  and  a big, 
balloon-topped  cottonwood  or  poplar  waves  over  the 
spot  still.  Their  tents  are  about  two  hundred  yards 
apart,  and  Caton’s  little  warrior  Run  is  between 
them.  Their  headquarters  tents,  flaps  thrown  back, 
are  indicated  by  colored  lanterns  on  poles  in  front  of 
them;  and  in  them  a candle  or  lamp  is  burning,  and 
on  a camp-chair  before  them,  or  writing  at  a table 
within,  is  an  adjutant-general  on  duty  for  the  night. 
Couriers  are  standing  about  with  their  horses  sad- 
dled, and  out  where  the  Germanna  Road  meets  the 
Pike,  is  a mounted  orderly  to  point  the  way  to  aides 
coming  in  from  the  lines,  who  have  occasion  to  visit 
headquarters.  And  let  us  hope  that  blessed  sleep 
on  her  noiseless  wings  has  found  her  way  without 
the  aid  of  the  sentinel  at  the  Pike  to  the  tents  of 
both  Meade  and  Grant. 

There  is  no  moon,  the  stars  are  dim,  and  all  is 
hushed.  The  night  air  is  permeated  with  the  odor  of 
freshly-burnt-over  woods,  for  the  fire  spread  widely 
and  is  still  slumbering  and  smoking  in  chunks  and 
fallen  trees.  Here  and  there  it  has  climbed  up  the 
grape-vines  or  the  loose  bark  of  a dead  trunk,  and 


214  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


aloft  throws  out  little  tremulous  torch-like  flames 
from  their  scraggly-limbed  tops,  pulsing  beacons 
over  the  dark  woods.  Single  ambulances  are  still 
coming  and  going,  and  now  and  then  one  is  picking 
its  way  slowly  and  carefully  with  its  suffering  load 
across  the  fields. 

Up  the  Pike,  barely  visible  by  the  light  that  falls 
from  the  starry  maze,  from  those  lamps  that  are  hung 
to  show  our  minds  the  way  to  Another’s  headquarters 
far,  far  above  Grant’s  and  Meade’s,  both  armies  are 
lying  behind  their  newly-thrown-up  breastworks, 
which  stretch  from  Flat  Run  well  across  the  Pike 
toward  Chewning’s,  and  are  more  or  less  parallel  and 
close.  On  Sedgwick’s  and  some  of  Warren’s  front 
they  are  within  pistol-shot  of  one  another,  and  all 
along  between  them  are  many  dead  and  wounded, 
whose  cries  and  moans  can  be  heard,  but  cannot  be 
relieved,  so  persistent  is  the  firing.  Sedgwick’s  head- 
quarters are  on  the  Flat  Run  Road  not  far  from  where 
it  joins  the  Germanna.  Upton,  Brown,  Russell,  Sha- 
ler,  Morris,  and  Seymour  of  his  corps,  like  Griffin, 
Ayres,  Robinson,  and  Bartlett  of  Warren’s,  are  up 
in  the  woods  close  behind  their  troops,  blessed,  I 
hope,  with  refreshing  sleep. 

Ewell  has  his  headquarters  bivouac  on  the  Pike, 
and  I suppose  his  flea-bitten  gray,  Rifle,  that  Major 
Stiles  claimed  resembled  him,  — if  so,  Rifle  must 
have  been  a lank,  serious-looking  horse,  with  a high 
broad  forehead,  rather  bony  eye-sockets,  and  lean, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  215 


scooped-out  cheeks,  for  such  were  the  prominent 
features  of  Ewell’s  face,  — Rifle,  more  or  less  visible 
on  account  of  his  chalky  color,  is  not  far  away,  tied 
to  a sapling;  and,  as  his  rider  has  lost  a leg,  he,  out 
of  sympathy  or  weariness,  is  probably  resting  one 
hind  leg  on  its  toe  and  dreaming.  Ewell’s  general 
hospital,  his  surgeons  as  busy  as  our  own,  is  back 
near  Locust  Grove,  whence  at  an  early  hour  in  the 
evening  a batch  of  our  prisoners,  about  twelve  hun- 
dred in  number,  most  of  them  from  Warren’s  corps, 
had  set  out  for  Orange  Court  House.  In  the  middle 
of  the  night  they  met  Ramseur  and  Mahone  hurry- 
ing toward  the  front. 

Had  I been  one  of  the  unfortunate  prisoners  I know 
that  I should  have  wished  over  and  over  again,  as  I 
trudged  along  that  night,  that  I was  lying  dead  back 
on  the  field  with  my  fellows,  rather  than  about  to 
face  a long  term  in  Confederate  prisons,  so  greatly 
did  I dread  them  after  seeing  the  wrecks  that  came 
down  the  James  from  Richmond  when  I first  went  to 
Fort  Monroe. 

Hancock  is  bivouacked  on  the  Plank  Road  a short 
way  east  (within  a hundred  yards)  of  the  Junction, 
and  he  may  or  may  not  be  asleep,  for,  at  his  inter- 
view with  Meade,  the  latter  cautioned  him  to  keep 
a strict  lookout  for  his  left  in  the  morning  — hinting 
at  the  possibility  of  Longstreet  striking  him  in  the 
Stonewall  Jackson  way.  Birney  has  been  told  that  he 
is  to  lead  in  the  morning,  and  the  various  brigade 


216  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


commanders  of  his  division  and  Getty’s  have  had 
their  positions  assigned  them.  Sheridan  is  at  Chan- 
cellors ville;  Wilson  and  Gregg  are  so  encamped  as 
to  cover  the  roads  that  come  in  at  Todd’s  Tavern. 

On  the  Widow  Tapp  field,  dimly  lit  by  the  faint 
starlight,  and  silent,  save  that  now  and  then  a travel- 
ing cry  from  the  wounded  in  the  woods  passes  over  it, 
Lee,  Hill,  and  Wilcox  are  camped  close  up  to  their 
well-fought,  tired  troops,  and  their  headquarters  are 
not  far  apart.  Hill  is  described  as  sitting  alone  at 
a late  hour  before  a small,  languishing  fire,  made  of 
a few  round,  crossed-over  sticks,  near  one  of  the  guns 
of  Williams’s  battery  whose  right  wheel  is  just  on  the 
edge  of  the  road,  facing  Birney.  Wilcox  has  been  to 
see  Hill  and  asked  for  permission  to  withdraw  his 
lines  so  as  to  reform  them,  and  the  little,  punctilious 
man,  who  is  not  very  well,  has  told  him  to  let  the  men 
rest. 

The  reason  why  Wilcox  made  this  request  is  ex- 
plained by  the  adjutant  of  the  Eighteenth  North 
Carolina  in  his  account  of  the  Wilderness.  It  seems 
that  when  Brooke  struck  Lane’s  brigade,  the  Eight- 
eenth was  badly  shattered,  and,  breaking,  disap- 
peared in  the  darkness.  The  adjutant,  while  seeking 
it,  got  lost,  suddenly  found  himself  within  our  lines, 
and  after  cautiously  making  his  way  to  avoid  this 
body  of  men  and  then  another  in  the  woods,  all  at 
once  struck  the  Plank  Road,  knew  where  he  was, 
followed  it  up  to  our  pickets,  and  then,  staking  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  217 


life  against  captivity,  dashed  ahead  through  them. 
On  reaching  the  edge  of  the  woods  he  saw  a white 
horse  standing  out  in  the  Tapp  field  and,  going  closer, 
recognized  it  as  General  Wilcox’s.  He  sought  the 
general  and  told  him  that  there  was  nothing,  ab- 
solutely nothing,  between  his  lines  and  ours.  Wilcox 
was  cross,  and  would  not  listen  to  him,  dismissing 
him  sharply  with  an  aside  that  there  was  a brigade 
in  front  of  his  line.  The  adjutant  at  last  found  his 
regiment,  told  his  fellow  officers  his  story,  and  they, 
in  view  of  the  danger,  went  to  Wilcox  and  assured 
him  of  their  adjutant’s  truthfulness  and  good  judg- 
ment. Thereupon  Wilcox  made  his  visit  to  Hill.  Later 
he  tells  us  that  he  went  to  see  Lee,  whose  tent  was 
within  less  than  two  hundred  yards,  in  reference  to 
the  same  matter.  On  his  entering,  Lee  remarked  that 
he  had  made  a complimentary  report  on  the  conduct 
of  his  and  Heth’s  division  and,  holding  up  a note,  that 
he  had  just  heard  from  Anderson,  that  he  was  going 
into  bivouac  at  Verdierville,  and  that  he  had  sent 
word  to  him  and  to  Longstreet  to  move  forward  so 
as  to  relieve  the  divisions  which  had  been  so  actively 
engaged. 

Longstreet  at  that  hour  was  bivouacking  at  Rich- 
ard’s shop  on  the  Catharpin  Road.  When  we  first 
entered  Richmond  the  following  April,  the  diary  of 
an  officer  of  his  corps  was  picked  up  in  the  street  by 
some  one  of  our  men,  and  in  it  is  this  entry:  — 

“Thursday,  May  5th.  Marched  at  three  o’clock 


218  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


this  morning.  Rested  after  marching  thirteen  miles, 
and  cooked  some  rations.  After  resting  a while  re- 
sumed march,  marched  20  miles  and  camped  at  dark 
five  miles  from  the  battle-field.” 

That  made  a total  of  thirty-three  miles,  and  as  the 
day  was  exceedingly  hot,  especially  in  the  woods, 
the  men  must  have  been  very  tired. 

Lee’s  orders  to  Longstreet,  carried  by  that  crystal 
aide,  Venable,  were  to  move  at  2 a.  m.,  the  same  hour 
as  that  Grant  had  set  for  Burnside.  Longstreet  had 
a mile  or  two  farther  to  march,  but,  unfortunately 
for  us,  he  had  not,  on  this  occasion  at  least,  “a  genius 
for  slowness,”  and  was  on  the  very  nick  of  time. 

The  troops  on  the  move  then  are  Ramseur  and 
Mahone  on  their  way  to  reinforce  Lee’s  lines,  and 
Ferrero,  my  old  West  Point  dancing-master,  tip- 
toeing along  with  his  colored  division  to  reach  Ger- 
manna  Ford  and  swell  Burnside’s  corps. 

And  that  now  is  the  story  of  the  night. 

“But  you  have  not  told  me,”  exclaims  my  friend, 
knocking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  “of  the  personal 
incidents  you  asked  to  be  reminded  of.”  Well,  do  not 
fill  your  pipe  again,  I ’ll  promise  not  to  be  long.  There 
is  the  body  of  a young  officer  lying  alone  in  the  woods 
pretty  well  south  of  the  Plank  Road.  It  is  that  of 
Colonel  Alford  B.  Chapman,  aged  twenty-eight  years, 
of  the  Fifty -seventh  New  York.  There  is  a little 
pocket  note-book  beside  his  lifeless  hand,  and  on  one 
of  the  open  leaves  he  has  written  his  father’s  name 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  219 


and  address  and  these  words:  “Dear  Father:  I am 
mortally  wounded.  Do  not  grieve  for  me.  My  dear- 
est love  to  all.  Alford.”  I do  not  know,  but  I doubt 
if  Death  anywhere  in  the  Wilderness  has  met  more 
steady  eyes  than  those  of  this  dying,  family-remem- 
bering young  man.  Fie  was  brigade  officer  of  the  day, 
and  his  duties  had  called  him  into  the  engagement 
very  early;  and  when,  toward  dusk,  his  regiment 
advanced  to  fill  a gap  on  account  of  the  lines  being 
extended  southward  to  meet  the  overlapping  of  Lane’s 
big  North  Carolina  brigade,  it  came  across  Chap- 
man’s body,  the  first  it  knew  of  his  fate. 

And  while  we  are  on  Hancock’s  front  let  me  refer 
to  Hays,  and,  if  ever  you  go  along  the  Brock  Road, 
you  will  come  to  a cast-iron  gun  standing  upright 
on  a granite  base  surrounded  by  an  iron  picket 
fence.  It  marks  the  near-by  spot  where  he  fell,  and 
is  on  the  right-hand  side  of  the  road  about  where 
the  easterly  branch  of  Wilderness  Run  crosses  it,  a 
little  this  side  of  the  Junction.  He  was  a very  gallant 
officer,  and  his  lonely  monument  will  appeal  to  you. 
There  is  something  illustrative  of  the  man,  and  mys- 
teriously prophetic,  in  a letter  he  wrote  to  his  wife 
the  morning  of  the  day  he  was  killed:  “This  morning 
was  beautiful,”  said  the  letter,  “for 

‘Lightly  and  brightly  shone  the  sun. 

As  if  the  morn  was  a jocund  one.’ 

Although  we  were  anticipating  to  march  at  8 o’clock, 
it  might  have  been  an  appropriate  harbinger  of  the 


220  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


day  of  regeneration  of  mankind;  but  it  only  brought 
to  remembrance,  through  the  throats  of  bugles,  that 
duty  enjoined  upon  each  one,  perhaps  before  the  set- 
ting sun,  to  lay  down  a life  for  his  country.” 

It  was  a translation  worthy  of  the  prophets  of  old 
that  he  gave  to  the  notes  of  the  bugles;  and  the  rev- 
erential, kindly  mood  — and  to  think  it  was  his  last! 
— hailing  the  sun  as  the  harbinger  of  the  day  of  re- 
generation of  mankind!  Oh!  the  sanity  and  spread 
of  the  primary  emotions! 

The  other  incidents  are  these,  one  of  which  was 
referred  to  early  in  the  narrative,  namely,  the  relief 
of  one  of  our  men  on  Griffin’s  front  by  a Confederate 
officer.  The  circumstances  were  as  follows:  the  Con- 
federate, touched  by  the  cries  of  our  men,  — he  had 
been  trying  to  sleep,  — crawled  over  the  works  on 
hands  and  knees  in  the  darkness,  till  he  reached  a 
wounded  man,  who  turned  out  to  be  a lieutenant  of 
a western  regiment,  if  I remember  right,  and  asked 
what  he  could  do  for  him.  “I  am  very,  very  thirsty, 
and  I am  shot  so  that  I cannot  move.”  The  good 
Samaritan  crawled  to  the  little  brook,  — it  wimples 
still  across  the  old  Pike,  — filled  a canteen  and  came 
back  with  it,  and,  after  propping  the  wounded  man’s 
head,  went  his  way.  A little  while  afterwards  another 
Confederate  came  prowling  toward  the  wounded  man 
and,  thinking  he  was  dead,  began  to  feel  for  his  watch. 
The  lieutenant  remonstrated,  but  the  hard-hearted 
creature  took  the  watch,  saying,  “You  will  be  dead 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  221 


before  long,  and  will  not  need  it.”  Here  we  have  the 
extremes  of  our  natures,  and  how  they  stand  out ! the 
manly  and  angelic,  the  brutish  and  satanic!  I know 
the  name  of  the  prowler;  but  of  the  other,  the  noble 
fellow,  I do  not.  If  I did,  it  should  appear  on  this  page 
and  live  as  long  as  I could  make  it  live.  This  story 
I got  from  my  friend,  Mr.  Jennings  of  the  Wilderness, 
who  had  it  from  the  lips  of  the  western  lieutenant 
himself,  who,  a few  years  ago,  came  back  to  the  old 
battle-field,  and  the  first  place  he  visited  was  the  lit* 
tie  brook;  and  I have  no  doubt  it  murmured  sweetly 
all  through  that  night,  full  of  a native  happiness  at 
seeing  once  more  its  acquaintance  of  other  days.1 
. The  other  incident  is  found  in  the  diary  of  Cap: 
tain  Robert  E.  Park,  Company  F,  Twelfth  Alabama, 
Battle’s  brigade,  Rodes’s  division.  “Crawled  ovei* 
the  works  with  two  canteens  of  water  to  relieve  some 
of  the  wounded,  groaning  and  calling  aloud  in  front 
of  the  line.  Night  dark,  no  moon  and  few  stars,  and 
as  I crawled  to  the  first  man  and  offered  him  a drink 
of  water,  he  declined;  and,  in  reply  to  my  inquiries, 
told  me  that  he  was  shot  through  the  leg  and  body 
and  was  sure  he  was  bleeding  internally.  I told  him 
that  I feared  he  would  not  live  till  morning,  and 

1 I am  indebted  to  Mrs.  and  Mr.  Jennings  for  opening  their  door  to 
me  as  the  day  was  ending  on  my  last  visit  to  the  Wilderness;  I was  tired, 
hungry,  and  chilled,  and  no  stranger  ever  met  a more  hospitable  welcome. 
Their  house  stands  nearly  opposite  where  Grant  had  his  headquarters, 
and  while  I sat  before  the  crackling  fire  my  eye  rested  on  the  spot,  over 
which  a cold  gray  mist  was  drifting. 


<m  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


asked  him  whether  he  was  making  any  preparation 
for  leaving  this  world.  His  reply  was  that  he  had 
not  given  it  a thought,  as  his  life  had  not  been  one  of 
sin,  and  that  he  was  content.  He  was  about  twenty 
years  of  age,  and  from  a northwestern  state.” 
Guides  of  the  upper  world!  I have  only  one  request 
to  make,  that  you  point  out  to  me  that  boy;  for  I 
should  like  these  earthly  eyes  to  rest  upon  the  calm 
depths  of  his  heroic  and  innocent  face;  and  I have 
no  doubt  his  kind  benefactor,  Captain  Park,  will  be 
there  too. 

And  now  it  is  near  midnight,  and  all  is  very,  very 
still.  “Hark,  what  is  that  I hear?”  you  ask.  It  is 
some  staff  officer’s  horse  at  a brigade  headquarters 
up  in  the  woods,  neighing  for  a mate  which  will 
probably  never  march  with  him  again.  Let  us  turn 
in. 


VIII 


Meade,  in  transmitting  to  his  corps  commanders 
Grant’s  orders  for  the  renewal  of  the  battle,  directed 
them  to  send  their  train-guards,  as  well  as  every 
man  who  could  shoulder  a musket,  to  join  the  ranks 
by  daylight;  adding  that  staff  officers  should  be  sent 
at  once  to  his  headquarters  to  learn  from  the  chiefs 
of  departments  the  location  of  their  special  trains  and 
conduct  the  guards  to  the  front.  This  order  took  a 
deal  of  hard  night-riding  to  fulfill,  and  some  of  those 
who  carried  it  did  not  get  back  to  their  respective 
headquarters  till  long  after  midnight;  for  the  main 
trains  were  scattered  about  Chancellorsville  and  along 
the  Ely’s  Ford  Road  wherever  they  could  haul  off 
into  an  opening,  and  on  account  of  the  darkness  were 
hard  to  find. 

Meade,  as  already  told,  asked  his  corps  commanders 
to  come  and  see  him  in  reference  to  the  movement 
in  the  morning;  and,  having  had  quite  a conference 
with  them,  sent  Lyman  over  with  this  message  to 
Grant:  “After  conversing  with  my  corps  commanders, 
I am  led  to  believe  that  it  will  be  difficult,  owing  to 
the  dense  thicket  in  which  their  commands  are  lo- 
cated, the  fatigued  condition  of  the  men  rendering 
it  difficult  to  rouse  them  early  enough,  and  the  neces- 


224  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


sity  of  some  daylight,  to  properly  put  in  reinforce- 
ments. All  these  considerations  induce  me  to  suggest 
the  attack  should  not  be  made  till  six  o’clock  instead 
of  4.30.”  It  was  then  half-past  ten  and  Grant  had 
retired;  he  was  aroused,  and  changed  it  to  five;  and 
says  in  his  Memoirs  that  he  was  sorry  he  made  the 
change,  and  I am  sure  he  was  right.  In  view  of  the 
fact  that  the  sun  rose  in  a clear  sky  at  4.47,  and,  as 
every  one  knows,  dawn  at  that  season  begins  at  latest 
by  four  o’clock,  — I remember  its  coming  on,  scat- 
tering light  like  the  sower  it  is,  at  every  step;  for  we 
breakfasted  early  that  morning;  the  mist  that  had 
gathered  during  the  night  was  lifting  and  all  but  a 
few  of  the  stars  had  faded  and  gone,  — I say,  until 
I saw  Colonel  Lyman’s  notes,  I always  wondered 
why  Meade  made  this  request  of  Grant  to  postpone 
the  attack  an  hour  and  a half,  till  the  sun  had  risen 
above  the  trees;  but  I think  the  notes  disclose  the 
reason. 

I It  will  be  recalled  that  two  of  Burnside’s  divi- 
sions were  in  bivouac  just  this  side  of  the  Rapidan, 
and  that  his  was  a separate  command  independent 
of  Meade,  hence  all  his  orders  had  to  emanate  from 
Grant.  Accordingly  for  the  morning’s  attack  Grant 
sent  them  to  him  direct  through  Colonel  Comstock 
of  the  engineers,  one  of  my  instructors  at  West 
Point,  a tall,  sedate  man,  and  Grant’s  most  mod- 
est, able,  and  confidential  aide.  They  were  in  these 
terms : — 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  225 


Head  Quarters  Armies  of  the  United  States, 
Near  Wilderness  Tavern, 

May  5,  1864,  8 P.  M. 

Lieutenant-General  Grant  desires  that  you  start 
your  two  divisions  at  2 a m.  to-morrow,  punctually, 
for  this  place.  You  will  put  them  in  position  between 
the  Germanna  Plank  Road  and  the  road  leading  from 
this  place  to  Parker’s  Store,  so  as  to  close  the  gap 
between  Warren  and  Hancock,  connecting  both.  You 
will  move  from  this  position  on  the  enemy  beyond 
at  4.30  a.  m.,  the  time  at  which  the  Army  of  the  Po- 
tomac moves. 

C.  B.  Comstock, 
Lt.-Col.  & Aide-de-camp. 

It  seems  that  Burnside  came  to  Grant’s  headquar- 
ters after  the  receipt  of  this  order,  and  then  joined 
Meade.  At  the  close  of  his  interview  with  Meade  and 
the  other  corps  commanders  gathered  there,  he  said, 
as  he  rose,  — he  had  a very  grand  and  oracular  air, 

— “Well,  then,  my  troops  shall  break  camp  by  half- 
past two!”  and  with  shoulders  thrown  back  and 
measured  step  disappeared  in  the  darkness. 

\ After  he  was  out  of  hearing,  Duane,  Meade’s  Chief 
of  Engineers,  who  had  been  with  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  since  its  formation,  said:  “He  won’t  be  up 

— I know  him  well ! ” — I can  see  Duane’s  face,  hear 
his  quiet  voice,  see  his  hands  slowly  stroking  his  full, 
long,  rusty  beard,  as  he  says,  “He  won’t  be  up  — I 
know  him  well ! ” — And  apparently  that  was  the 


226  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


opinion  of  them  all,  that  he  would  n’t  be  up  by  4.30 
— for  they  knew  him  well,  too,  and  recognized  what 
Lyman  says  of  him,  that  he  “had  a genius  for  slow- 
ness.” But  each  one  felt  the  importance  of  his  join- 
ing them  before  they  tackled  Lee  again,  for  they  had 
had  about  all  they  could  do  to  hold  their  own  that 
afternoon.  So,  fresh  troops  being  very  desirable,  and 
knowing  him  as  they  did,  they  wanted  to  make  sure 
of  them  by  allowing  him  an  extra  hour  and  a half  to 
get  them  up. 

And  I suspect  that  Meade,  convinced  that  they 
were  right,  that  Burnside  would  not  be  up  in  time, 
made  use  of  thickets  and  want  of  daylight  rather 
than  the  real  reason,  to  ask  for  the  postponement 
of  the  attack.  As  we  shall  see,  it  turned  out  just  as 
Duane  predicted. 

Burnside  represented  a well-recognized  type  in 
all  armies,  the  California-peach  class  of  men,  hand- 
some, ingratiating  manners,  and  noted  for  a soldierly 
bearing,  — that  is,  square  shoulders,  full  breast,  and 
the  capacity  on  duty  to  wear  a grim  countenance, 
while  off  duty  all  smiles  and  a keen  eye  to  please,  — 
who,  in  times  of  peace,  not  only  in  our  country  but 
everywhere,  invariably  land  in  high  places,  and  who 
almost  as  invariably  make  utter  failures  when  they 
are  given  commands  on  the  breaking  out  of  war. 
And  are  not  their  failures  accounted  for  by  the  fact 
that  their  minds  have  been  entirely  devoted  to  look- 
ing out  for  the  main  chance,  to  being  agreeable  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  227 


well-groomed,  rather  than  to  the  deep  serious  phases 
of  life?  — I am  satisfied  that  reflection  is  the  pole 
star  of  genius,  — hence,  when  they  are  confronted 
by  the  inexorable  demands  of  war,  they  hesitate, 
appalled  and  imbecile.  Moreover,  there  is  nothing 
reactive  about  this  type,  as  in  the  case  of  Grant  and 
Lee,  Sherman  and  Sheridan.  And  yet  twice  did  Con- 
gress vote  its  thanks  to  Burnside,  and  old  “Burn,” 
as  he  was  affectionately  called,  died  with  hosts  and 
hosts  of  friends. 

Knowing  that  at  five  o’clock  battle  was  to  be  re- 
newed by  vigorous  attack  all  along  the  lines,  the 
little  colony  of  orderlies,  cooks,  and  teamsters  about 
Warren’s  headquarters  were  astir  before  daylight. 
When  I aroused,  some  of  the  stars  were  still  glowing 
and  belated  detachments  from  the  train  guards  were 
still  coming  on  to  the  field  on  their  way  to  their  re- 
spective commands,  moving  through  the  disappear- 
ing mist  that  had  stolen  into  the  Wilderness,  and, 
as  we  would  fain  believe,  to  moisten  the  cheeks  and 
eyelashes  of  its  living  and  dead  as  they  slept,  and 
to  wrap  the  latter  in  its  cool  gray  shrouds.  Up  near 
the  woods,  dimly  visible,  were  a couple  of  brigades 
— the  Marylanders  among  them  — which  Warren 
had  had  assembled  there  during  the  night  as  a re- 
serve behind  Griffin,  to  whom,  as  on  the  day  before, 
the  initiative  of  the  serious  work  was  intrusted.  The 
places  of  these  troops  in  line  had  been  made  good 
by  closing  Crawford  to  the  right  and  abreast  of 


228  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Griffin,  on  the  assumption  that  Burnside  would  be 
up  and  take  the  ground  he  had  occupied,  that  is, 
across  the  Parker’s  Store  Road,  near  where  it  leaves 
Wilderness  Run  for  the  rolling  plateau  of  the  Chewn- 
ing  farm. 

Kitching’s  brigade  of  heavy  artillery  had  just  ar- 
rived from  Chancellorsville,  and  the  men  were  resting 
near  the  Lacy  house,  most  of  them  between  the  run 
and  the  road.  It  was  a big,  fresh  brigade,  over  twenty- 
two  hundred  strong;  and  while  its  regiments  were 
preparing  for  the  night  march,  — their  orders  were 
to  move  at  1 a.  m.,  — the  Colonel  and  a score  or  two 
of  his  men  held  a service,  and,  all  kneeling,  he  led 
them  in  prayer.  Around  the  kneeling  group  were  the 
shallow  graves  of  those  who  had  been  killed  the  year 
before;  and  the  one  who  narrates  the  circumstance 
says  that  solitude’s  dreariest  choir,  the  whippoor- 
wills, of  which  there  were  hundreds,  and  maybe  thou- 
sands, were  repeating  their  night-long  mournful  chant. 
Possibly  the  earnest  student  of  the  battle  would  pre- 
fer to  be  told  why  they  were  serving  as  infantry,  — 
they  were  three  battalion  regiments,  — their  order 
of  march,  and  exactly  the  distance  they  had  had  to 
make;  but  I wonder  which  is  the  more  enduring  and 
significant  fact,  the  young  colonel  with  palm  to  palm 
pouring  out  his  heart  to  God  under  the  starlight,  or 
whether  Blank’s  battalion  moved  first  right  or  left  in 
front. 

v How  all  mere  military  detail  of  battle  fades  away 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  229 


as  we  lift  on  the  tides  of  great  affairs ! Student  of  war, 
let  me  suggest  that  once  in  a while  as  you  study  bat- 
tles that  you  take  Imagination’s  offered  hand;  she 
will  lead  you  through  simple  height-gaining  paths 
till  at  last  fife  and  drum  die  away  and  lo ! you  are  in 
a blessed  company  charged  to  convert  what  is  earthly 
into  what  is  spiritual. 

But  to  return  to  the  morning:  day  was  coming  on 
fast;  bodies  of  woods,  solitary  trees  on  the  ridges,  and 
vacant  sky-arched  distances,  were  stealing  into  view 
as  we  hastily  breakfasted.  Our  horses  were  saddled 
and  ready,  and  those  of  us  who  had  had  a kind  word 
for  the  colored  cooks  and  waiters  found  in  our  sad- 
dle-bags a snack  of  one  kind  or  other  wrapped  up  in 
bits  of  paper.  Nowhere  in  this  world  does  it  pay 
better  to  show  consideration  for  the  low  in  estate, 
and  above  all  for  those  of  the  colored  race,  than  on  a 
campaign.  They  will  look  after  you  faithfully,  and, 
if  you  should  be  sick  or  wounded,  will  stand  by  you 
to  the  last. 

Although  a great  many  years  lie  between  now  and 
then,  yet  across  them  all  I can  see  Warren  mounting 
his  heavy  dappled  iron-gray,  and  wearing  his  yel- 
low sash.  His  saddle-blanket  was  scarlet,  and  a few 
days  afterward  at  Spotsylvania,  when  this  horse 
was  shot,  I waited  near  him  while  saddle  and  blanket 
were  stripped  from  him1  by  an  orderly. 

1 The  shot  that  hit  Warren’s  horse  was  aimed  at  Warren,  and  possi- 
bly fired  by  the  same  sharpshooter  who  the  next  morning  at  almost  the 
identical  spot  killed  Sedgwick.  Warren  was  watching  Robinson’s  men. 


230  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


The  first  duty  I had  after  breakfast  was  to  go  to 
the  intersection  of  the  Pike  and  Germanna  Ford 
roads  and  wait  there  till  Burnside  should  arrive,  and 
then  show  him  the  way  up  the  Parker’s  Store  Road 
to  his  position.  My  assignment  happened  in  this 
way:  Roebling  had  gone  to  Grant’s  headquarters  at 
11.30  the  previous  night  to  confer  with  Comstock  as  to 
the  position  Burnside’s  corps  should  take;  and  in  his 
notes  he  says:  “Two  opinions  presented  themselves, 
either  to  go  and  join  Wadsworth  by  daylight,  or  else 
obtain  possession  of  the  heights  at  Chewning’s  and 
fall  upon  the  enemy’s  rear  by  that  route.  If  success- 
ful in  carrying  the  heights,  the  latter  plan  promised 
the  greatest  results;  if  not,  it  would  fail  altogether. 
Then  again  it  was  thought  that  when  Wadsworth 
joined  the  Second  Corps,  the  two  together  would  be 
sufficient  to  drive  the  enemy.  General  Grant  then 
decided  that  the  Ninth  Corps  should  go  to  Chewn- 
ing’s, and  I prepared  to  accompany  them  at  four 
o’clock  in  the  morning.”  Accordingly,  at  that  hour, 
he  and  Cope  went  to  the  Pike  and  waited  for  Burn- 
side. I suspect  that  Warren,  as  the  hour  for  attack 

who  were  briskly  engaged  along  and  to  the  right  of  the  Spotsylvania 
Road,  trying  to  carry  the  enemy’s  position  at  the  old  scattered  orchard 
of  the  Spindle  farm.  I was  directly  behind  him.  We  had  been  there  but 
a short  time  before  I heard  the  ping  of  a passing  shot.  From  the  same 
direction,  another  went  directly  over  our  heads,  and,  in  a little  while,  as 
soon  as  the  man  could  reload,  another,  and  this  time  so  much  nearer 
that  I said,  “General,  that  man  is  getting  the  range  on  you.”  The  sharp- 
shooter was  in  the  woods  beyond  the  rather  wide  and  deep  ravine  that 
makes  northeastward  from  the  Sedgwick  monument.  Warren  said  no- 
thing but  shortly  started  to  move  to  the  right,  when  down  went  the  horse. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  231 


came  on,  and  Burnside  did  not  appear,  feeling  the 
need  of  both  Roebling  and  Cope,  who  really  were 
his  right-hand  men,  sent  me  to  take  their  places  and 
wait  for  Burnside.  They  both  hurried  off  Cope  to 
join  Wadsworth. 

On  my  way  to  the  Pike  I passed  the  engineer  bat- 
talion marching  in  column  of  fours  to  report  to  Griffin. 
It  was  the  first  time  in  all  their  history  when,  as  a 
body,  this  aristocracy  of  the  rank  and  file  of  the  army 
was  called  on  to  take  a hand  as  infantry,  as  common 
“dough-boys,”  in  the  actual  fighting.  I knew  all  the 
officers  well:  they  were  the  ones  I had  dined  with 
when  I announced  my  readiness  to  take  command 
of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac.  Their  duties  hitherto 
had  been  confined  to  the  dangerous  business  of 
laying  the  pontoon  bridges,  and  at  other  times  to 
repairing  roads  or  to  selecting  and  laying  out  field- 
works — the  officers  meanwhile  familiarizing  them- 
selves with  the  lines  and  all  the  natural  features  of 
the  scene  of  operations.  But  we  all  recognized  the 
grind  of  fighting  as  infantry,  and  broad  grins  were 
exchanged  as  I rode  by  them.  Fortunately,  they  were 
not  called  on  to  assault,  but  were  put  to  throwing  a 
new  line  of  entrenchments  across  the  Pike  in  rear 
of  Griffin. 

The  head  of  Burnside’s  leading  division,  Potter’s, 
came  on  the  field  to  the  tune  of  Hancock’s  musketry 
about  half-past  five.  It  should  have  been  there  at 
least  an  hour  and  a half  earlier  to  move  to  the  attack 


232  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


with  Hancock  and  Wadsworth.  Duane’s  oracular 
observation  of  the  night  before,  “He  won’t  be  up, 
I know  him  well,”  had  been  verified.  Meade  and 
the  corps  commanders  had  reckoned  just  about  right 
in  allowing  him  till  six  to  be  on  hand.  As  a matter 
of  fact,  Burnside  himself  did  n’t  get  up  to  the  Pike, 
let  alone  to  the  ground  Crawford  had  occupied,  till 
after  six.  When  he  came,  accompanied  by  a large 
staff,  I rode  up  to  him  and  told  him  my  instructions. 
He  was  mounted  on  a bobtailed  horse  and  wore  a 
drooping  army  hat  with  a large  gold  cord  around  it. 
Like  the  Sphinx,  he  made  no  reply,  halted,  and  began 
to  look  with  a most  leaden  countenance  in  the  direc- 
tion he  was  to  go. 

It  was  the  first  time  I had  ever  seen  him,  — he  had 
commanded  our  old  Army  of  the  Potomac,  he  was  a 
famous  man,  I was  young,  — and  my  eyes  rested  on 
his  face  with  natural  interest.  After  a while  he  started 
off  calmly  toward  the  Lacy  house,  not  indicating  that 
my  services  were  needed,  — he  probably  was  think- 
ing of  something  that  was  of  vastly  more  importance. 
I concluded  that  I was  n’t  wanted,  and  was  about 
to  go  my  own  way,  when  I caught  sight  of  Babcock 
of  Grant’s  staff  coming  at  great  speed  down  the  hill 
just  the  other  side  of  the  run.  He  had  been  out  with 
Hancock,  and  as  he  approached,  I called,  “What’s 
the  news,  Babcock?”  Without  halting  he  replied, 
his  kindly,  open  face  gleaming,  “Hancock  has  driven 
them  a mile  and  we  are  going  to  have  a great  victory,” 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  233 


or  words  to  that  effect.  I do  not  believe  my  heart 
was  ever  more  suddenly  relieved,  for  from  my  youth 
forebodings  of  the  very  worst  that  can  happen  have 
always  thrown  its  shadow.  And  now  to  know  we 
were  gaining  a victory!  I went  back  to  the  Lacy 
house  happy,  very  happy  indeed. 

Shortly  after  arriving  there,  Meade’s  instruction 
through  Warren  for  Wadsworth  to  report  for  orders 
to  Hancock  while  detached  from  the  Fifth  Corps,  was 
given  me  to  deliver,  and  with  an  orderly  I started 
up  the  Parker’s  Store  Road,  encumbered  with  Burn- 
side’s troops  moving  sluggishly  into  position,  the 
ground  being  very  difficult  to  form  on  speedily. 
By  this  time  it  was  about  8 o’clock.  The  general 
had  passed  through  them  to  the  front,  where  Potter 
was  deploying,  but  he  had  no  sooner  arrived  there 
than  his  big  staff  caught  the  eye  of  a Confederate 
battery  somewhere  on  the  right  of  Ewell’s  line,  and 
it  opened  on  them,  making  it  so  uncomfortable  that 
they  had  to  edge  away.  I left  the  road  about  where 
the  uppermost  eastern  branch  comes  in,  and  struck 
off  through  the  woods  in  the  direction  Wadsworth 
had  taken  the  night  before.  I had  not  gone  a great 
way  when  my  orderly,  a German,  riding  behind  me, 
said,  “Lieutenant,  you  are  bearing  too  much  to  the 
right,  you  will  run  into  the  rebel  lines.”  I sheered  to 
the  left;  here  and  there  were  stragglers  and  wounded, 
and  at  a point  alongside  the  run,  propped  against 
a beech  tree,  his  head  resting  on  his  right  shoulder, 


234.  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


his  cap  on  the  ground  beside  him,  was  a dead  fair- 
faced boy,  eighteen  or  nineteen  years  old,  holding  in 
his  bloodless  hand  a few  violets  which  he  had  picked. 
A shot  had  struck  him  in  the  arm,  or  the  leg,  I have 
forgotten  which,  and  he  had  slowly  bled  to  death.  I 
fancy  that,  as  he  held  the  little  familiar  wild-flowers 
in  his  hand,  his  unsullied  eyes  glazed  as  he  looked 
down  into  them,  and  his  mind  was  way  off  at  home. 
After  passing  him,  the  orderly  again  cautioned  me, 
but  this  time  I paid  no  attention  to  him  and  went 
on,  guided  by  the  firing. 

The  woods  were  very  thick,  and  unknowingly  we 
were  approaching  quite  a little  rise,  when  suddenly 
came  the  command,  “Get  off  that  horse  and  come 
in.”  I lowered  my  head  to  the  left,  and  there  stood 
a heavy  skirmish  line  with  uplifted  guns.  It  did 
not  take  me  one  second  to  decide.  I suspect  that 
as  usual  I did  not  think  at  all,  but  gave  my  horse 
a sudden  jerk  to  the  right,  then  the  spur,  and  as 
he  bounded  they  let  drive  at  us.  A shot,  — I sup- 
pose it  was  one  from  their  58-calibre  Enfields,  — 
grazing  my  sabre-belt,  struck  the  brass  “D”  buckle 
on  my  left  side  and  tore  the  belt  apart.  My  Colt’s 
pistol  in  its  holster  began  to  fall  and  I grabbed  it 
with  my  left  hand.  Just  then  a limb  knocked  off 
my  hat  and  with  my  right  hand  I caught  it  as  it  was 
passing  my  right  boot-top.  Meanwhile  the  horse 
was  tearing  his  way  along  the  course  we  had  come. 
The  orderly  disappeared  instantly,  and  that  was  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  235 


last  I saw  of  him  till  the  next  morning,  just  after  I 
had  returned  Grant’s  despatches  that  will  be  men- 
tioned later.  When  I met  him,  with  unfeigned  sur- 
prise he  exclaimed,  “Why,  my  God!  lieutenant,  I 
thought  sure  you  were  killed  up  there  yesterday.” 
I hardly  know  why  he  should  have  thought  so  unless 
he  concluded  I was  falling  when  I was  reaching  for 
my  hat.  His  judgment  was  better  than  mine,  how- 
ever, and  had  I followed  it  neither  of  us  would  have 
had  such  a close  call. 

Well,  as  soon  as  I could  get  control  of  my  horse 
and  both  of  us  could  breathe  a bit  easier,  for  the  dear 
old  fellow  was  no  more  anxious  to  go  to  Richmond 
that  way  than  I,  apparently,  I struck  off  more  to  the 
left,  and  in  a little  while  ran  into  swarms  of  stragglers, 
and  pretty  soon  met  a group  falling  back  under  some 
discipline.  Upon  inquiring,  I found  that  they  be- 
longed to  Cutler’s  brigade  of  Wadsworth’s  division, 
and  they  told  me  that  the  division  had  been  driven 
with  heavy  losses.  I gave  to  the  officer  who  said  he  was 
going  back  to  the  open  ground,  that  is,  to  the  Parker’s 
Store  Road  or  the  Lacy  fields,  the  despatch,  which 
will  be  found  in  the  War  Records,  dated  May  5th  by 
mistake;  the  hour  given  is  8.30.  In  this  despatch 
to  W’arren  I reported  the  enemy’s  skirmish-line  as 
being  about  a mile  from  the  field,  that  they  had  tried 
Wadsworth’s  left,  and  that  I would  go  on  till  I found 
him.  The  person  to  whom  this  despatch  was  handed 
either  delivered  it  in  person  or  sent  it  by  some  one  to 


236  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Warren’s  headquarters,  and  it  was  forwarded  from 
there  to  Humphreys  in  a despatch  dated  9.05.  Soon 
I fell  in  with  Cutler  himself,  leading  back  fragments 
of  his  broken  command.  There  may  have  been  seven 
or  eight  hundred  of  them,  and  possibly  twice  that 
number,  for  they  were  scattered  all  through  the  woods. 
He  was  rather  an  oldish,  thin,  earnest-looking  Round- 
head  sort  of  a man,  his  light  stubby  beard  and  hair 
turning  gray.  He  was  bleeding  from  a wound  across 
his  upper  lip,  and  looked  ghastly,  and  I have  no 
doubt  felt  worse;  for  he  was  a gallant  man,  and  to 
lead  his  men  back,  hearing  every  little  while  the 
volleys  of  their  comrades  still  facing  the  enemy, 
must  have  been  hard.  On  my  asking  him  where 
Wadsworth  was,  he  said,  “I  think  he  is  dead”;  and 
one  or  two  of  his  officers  said,  “Yes,  we  saw  him 
fall.” 

Relying  on  what  they  told  me,  I started  back  for 
Meade’s  headquarters.  When  I reached  there  and 
reported  the  serious  break  in  Wadsworth’s  lines,  no 
one  could  believe  it;  but  just  then  Cutler’s  men 
began  to  pour  out  of  the  woods  in  full  view  on  the 
ridge  east  of  the  Lacy  house,  and  the  seriousness  of 
the  situation  at  once  appeared  to  all.  As  to  Wads- 
worth’s death,  Cutler  and  his  officers  were  mistaken; 
he  was  not  mortally  wounded  until  about  two  hours 
later,  but  just  before  they  broke  the  general’s  horse 
was  killed  and  that  led  them  to  believer.  I think, 
that  he  was  killed  also. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  r 237 


My  report,  and  Cutler’s  appearance  verifying  it, 
brought  alarm  which  found  expression  in  the  follow- 
ing despatch  sent  at  once  to  Warren:  — 

The  Major  General  commanding  directs  that  you 
suspend  your  operations  on  the  right,  and  send  some 
force  to  prevent  the  enemy  from  pushing  past  your 
left,  near  your  headquarters.  They  have  driven  in 
Cutler  in  disorder  and  are  following  him. 

A.  A.  Humphreys, 
Major  General  & Chief  of  Staff. 

But,  as  a matter  of  fact,  the  enemy  had  not  broken 
our  lines  seriously,  and  were  not  following  Cutler. 

The  batteries  in  the  fields  around  the  Lacy  house, 
and  along  the  Pike,  where  the  little  chapel  now  stands, 
came  at  once  into  “action  front,”  the  cannoneers 
stepping  blithely  to  their  places,  and,  boldly  expec- 
tant, men  and  guns  stood  facing  toward  where  his 
men  came  straggling  out  of  the  woods. 

Before  I left  Meade’s  headquarters  word  was  sent 
in  from  Hancock  that  a column  was  reported  com- 
ing up  the  Brock  Road  deploying  skirmishers.  This 
lowering  news  on  the  heels  of  Cutler’s  appearance 
was  translated  by  Grant  in  the  light  of  its  premoni- 
tory look.  He  called  for  his  horse  and  set  out  to  join 
Hancock  where,  if  at  all,  the  crisis  would  break. 

So  much  then  for  the  chronicles  of  the  early  morn- 
ing, my  attempt  to  reach  Wadsworth,  and  the  events 
with  which  it  had  more  or  less  connection. 


IX 


Lee’s  plans  for  the  use  he  should  make  of  his  forces 
on  the  renewal  of  the  conflict,  in  that  he  aimed  a 
crushing  blow  at  his  adversary’s  most  vital  point, 
were  indicative,  I am  inclined  to  think,  of  a clearer 
if  not  a higher  range  of  soldierly  genius  than  those 
of  Grant  ordering  a general  assault  all  along  his  lines. 
For  Grant’s  plan  to  have  matched  Lee’s,  he  should 
have  struck  at  Lee’s  most  vital  point,  namely,  the 
Chewning  farm;  but  in  that  case  troops  would  have 
been  drawn  for  the  assault  from  Sedgwick  and  War- 
ren, to  support  Burnside’s  two  divisions,  and  with  him 
in  chief  command  ask  the  fields  of  Fredericksburg, 
the  bridge  at  Antietam  and  the  mine  at  Petersburg, 
what  would  probably  have  happened.  Besides,  he 
would  have  come  plump  against  Longstreet,  Ander- 
son, and  Mahone  on  their  way  to  Hill  and  Ramseur 
to  the  right  of  Ewell’s  line. 

But  let  all  this  be  as  it  may,  Lee  ordered  Ewell  to 
attack  at  4.30,  — the  very  hour  Grant  had  first  set 
for  resuming  the  offensive,  — his  object  being  to 
divert  attention  from  the  Plank  Road  where  he  meant 
to  make  his  supreme  effort,  assuming  that  Long- 
street,  Anderson,  and  Mahone  would  certainly  be  up 
by  that  time,  or  shortly  after. 

Ewell,  accordingly,  a little  before  five  o’clock,  threw 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  239 


his  left  brigade  against  Sedgwick’s  right;  but  Sedg- 
wick flung  him  back  with  a vengeance,  and  then  by 
determined  assault  forced  him  to  his  very  utmost  to 
hold  his  lines.  The  loss  of  life  on  both  sides  was  heavy. 

Griffin  in  his  front  drove  the  enemy’s  weighty 
skirmish  line  into  their  breastworks,  which,  during 
the  night,  had  been  made  exceedingly  strong,  and 
was  assembling  batteries  to  shake  them  before  he 
assaulted. 

At  five  o’clock  the  signal  gun  at  Hancock’s  head- 
quarters boomed,  and  his  troops  and  those  of  Wads- 
worth, who  had  been  waiting  for  it,  moved  promptly, 
the  latter  through  the  dense,  trammeling  woods, 
with  Baxter  in  his  centre,  Rice  on  his  right,  and  Cut- 
ler on  his  left,  all  facing  south  for  the  Plank  Road. 
To  Birney,  an  erect,  thoughtful-looking  man,  wear- 
ing a moustache  and  chin-beard,  — the  steady  light 
of  his  eyes  would  have  made  him  notable  in  any  com- 
pany, — Hancock  assigned  the  command  of  his  right. 
It  included  Birney’s  own,  Mott’s  and  Getty’s  divi- 
sions, together  with  Owen’s  and  Carroll’s  brigades 
of  Gibbon’s  division.  He  moved  with  Hays’s  old 
brigade  on  the  right  of  the  road,  its  front  when  de- 
ployed, owing  to  its  losses  of  the  day  before,  barely 
equal  to  that  of  an  average  regiment.  On  the  left 
was  Ward’s  of  his  own  division  and  part  of  Owen’s 
brigade.  Mott’s  second  brigade  was  on  the  left  of 
Ward  and  completed  Birney’s  front  line.  In  the  sec- 
ond line  was  Getty,  formed  with  Wheaton  across  the 


240  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


road,  the  valiant  Vermonters  on  his  left;  and  in  rear 
of  their  fellow  brigades  was  Eustis.  Carroll  was  in 
two  lines  of  battle  behind  all  the  foregoing  that  were 
north  of  the  road;  and  there,  too,  in  line  but  not  mov- 
ing with  him,  was  the  Nineteenth  Maine  of  Webb’s 
brigade,  which  had  reported  to  Carroll  when  the  battle 
was  raging,  in  the  twilight  of  the  previous  evening. 
It  was  under  the  command  of  Selden  Connor,  late 
Governor  of  Maine,  and  rendered  great  service  that 
day,  as  it  had  on  many  a field.  When  Carroll  moved, 
he  told  Connor  to  wait  for  Webb. 

Birney  soon  struck  his  foes  of  the  night  before,  and, 
after  some  quick,  sharp  fighting,  drove  them  from 
their  hastily-thrown-together  defenses,  consisting 
of  logs,  chunks,  and  brush  which  they  had  collected 
during  the  night,  Ward’s  and  Hays’s  brigades  cap- 
turing colors  and  prisoners.  Birney,  followed  by 
Getty,  now  pushed  on,  covering  ground  very  rap- 
idly, allowing  the  enemy  no  rest,  and  gathering  in 
prisoners  by  the  score.  By  this  time  Hays’s  brigade 
had  obliqued  to  the  left,  and  was  wholly  on  the  south 
side  of  the  road,  abreast  with  its  companion  brigade. 
Soon  Wadsworth,  sweeping  everything  before  him, 
emerged  from  the  north,  and,  wheeling  to  the  right, 
the  colors  of  some  of  Baxter’s  brigade  mingling  with 
those  of  Hays,  Owen,  and  Ward  on  the  south  side 
of  the  road,  joined  in  the  pursuit  of  the  now  almost 
routed  men  of  Heth’s  and  Wilcox’s  divisions,  who 
had  experienced  such  heavy  losses  the  night  before. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  241 


Birney,  finding  Wadsworth  on  the  north,  drew 
Getty  to  the  south  side  of  the  road.  Meanwhile 
Cutler  was  advancing  in  two  or  three  lines  of  battle, 
behind  the  right  of  Baxter’s  brigade  and  the  left  of 
Bice’s,  the  former’s  left  was  across  the  road,  the 
latter’s  right  reaching  and  curving  to  the  northeast- 
ern slopes  of  the  Tapp  field.  The  momentum  of  the 
advance  had  not  yet  been  checked. 

About  this  time  Lyman  reached  Hancock  at  the 
junction  of  the  Plank  and  Brock  roads,  under  orders 
from  Meade  to  report  by  orderlies  the  progress  of 
events  during  the  day.  On  making  his  mission  known, 
Hancock  cried,  “Tell  General  Meade  we  are  driving 
them  most  beautifully.  Birney  has  gone  in  and  he  is 
just  clearing  them  out  beautifully.”  On  Lyman  re- 
porting that  only  one  of  Burnside’s  divisions  was 
up  when  he  left  headquarters,  which,  as  will  be  re- 
called, were  within  a few  hundred  yards  of  the  Pike, 
“I  knew  it!  Just  what  I expected!”  exclaimed  Han- 
cock. “If  he  could  attack  now,  we  could  smash  A.  P. 
Hill  all  to  pieces!” 

Learning  of  Birney ’s  success,  Hancock  ordered 
Gibbon  to  move  with  Barlow’s  big,  fresh  division 
and  attack  Hill’s  right.  Unfortunately  this  order  was 
not  carried  out:  Gibbon  said  he  never  got  it  — two 
staff  officers  say  they  delivered  it  to  him.  We  can- 
not resist  the  vain  regret  that  Barlow  was  not  moved 
as  Hancock  wanted  him  moved,  for  another  story 
would  certainly  have  had  to  be  written;  and  I have 


242  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


no  doubt  that  to  Hancock’s  dying  day  this  failure 
kept  repeating  itself  out  of  the  fogging  coast  of  the 
Past  like  a mournful  bell  on  a swinging  buoy. 

Ward,  Owen,  and  Hays’s  old  brigade,  all  that  is 
left  of  it,  keeping  step  to  that  trumpet  of  Duty 
which  ever  spoke  to  their  dead  leader,  has  crushed 
or  brushed  away  Lane,  Scales,  Walker,  and  Cooke, 
and  is  now  crowding  Thomas  back  and  on  to  Mc- 
Gowan, who  at  last,  under  withering  fire  from  Wads- 
worth, is  staggering  into  the  field  behind  the  guns. 

In  line  behind  Birney  is  Wheaton,  and  then  the 
iron-hearted  Ve^nonters.  Coming  up  on  the  north 
side  of  the  road  is  Carroll,  his  brigade  in  two  lines, 
the  crash  of  the  musketry,  the  battle-field’s  hottest 
breath,  only  bringing  new  fire  into  his  face.  Yes, 
he  is  coming  up  with  that  brigade,  which,  when  the 
Confederates  in  the  twilight  of  the  second  day  at 
Gettysburg  broke  our  lines  and  were  spiking  the 
pieces,  Hancock  called  on  to  regain  them.  As  one 
of  those  gallant  regiments,  the  Fourth  Ohio,  had 
boys  in  it  from  my  old  home,  with  some  of  whom  I 
played  in  my  childhood,  there  comes  back  from  the 
past  a feeling  of  pride,  and  tenderness  too,  for  one 
of  them,  Nelson  Conine,  was  killed  that  day  and 
his  body  never  found.  Yes,  with  pride  and  tender- 
ness I see  them  following  the  heroic  Carroll. 

At  some  distance  behind  Carroll,  Webb,  Alexander 
S.  Webb,  my  old  West  Point  instructor,  — Heaven 
bless  him ! his  hair,  once  so  dark,  now  almost  as  white 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  243 


as  snow,  — is  leading  up  his  starry  brigade,  starry 
for  its  leader  and  starry  for  men  like  Abbott  of  the 
Twentieth  Massachusetts  and  Connor  of  the  Nine- 
teenth Maine  that  are  behind  him.  Yes,  he  is  leading 
them  up,  and  nowhere  on  that  field  is  blood  with 
more  native  chivalry.  Hancock,  scenting  danger,  sug- 
gested to  Humphreys  that  he  might  need  help,  and 
Stevenson’s  division  of  Burnside’s  corps  which  Grant 
had  intended  to  hold  at  the  Pike  as  a reserve  was  sent 
to  him.  It  arrived  at  the  junction  at  8 a.  m. 

Meantime  Wadsworth  has  crossed  the  last  morass 
on  his  side,  which,  on  account  of  its  tortuous  course, 
irregular  and  in  places  almost  declivitous  banks,  and 
densely  matted  thickets,  made  a line  of  strong  de- 
fense. And  now  his  advance  is  within  two  or  three 
hundred  yards  of  the  Widow  Tapp  field,  and  Baxter 
and  Birney  are  within  a like  or  less  distance  of  the 
easterly  line  of  the  field  prolonged.  Rice,  on  the  right, 
who  asked  to  be  turned  toward  the  enemy  when  he  was 
dying  at  Spotsylvania  a few  days  later,1  has  caught 
sight  through  the  trees  of  the  old  field’s  pearly 
light,  and  is  preparing  to  charge  a battery  planted 
among  its  starting  broom-grass.  According  to  General 
Pendleton,  Lee’s  chief  of  artillery,  Poague’s  battalion 
of  four  batteries  had  all  taken  positions  in  the  field. 

1 Rice’s  leg  had  just  been  amputated  high  up  on  the  thigh,  and  he 
was  lying  under  a fly  on  some  pine  boughs.  From  his  moving  lips  it  was 
seen  that  he  wished  to  say  something,  and  as  the  aide  leaned  over  him 
he  sighed,  “Turn  me.”  “Which  way?  ” asked  the  aide.  “Towards  the 
enemy,”  was  the  faint  reply.  They  turned  him  and  in  a little  while  he  died. 


244  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Birney’s  sharpshooters  south  of  the  road  preceding 
his  troops  and  Baxter’s  are  already  abreast  of  the 
east  line  of  the  field,  and  can  get  glimpses  of  the 
meagre,  huddled  buildings,  with  their  splayed  peach 
and  knotted  plum  trees,  — whose  leaves  and  the 
sashes  in  the  windows  tremble  at  every  discharge  of 
the  guns,  — and  are  beginning  to  place  their  shots 
among  the  cannoneers  of  Williams’s  North  Carolina 
battery,  belching  shell  and  shrapnel,  firing  over  Mc- 
Gowan and  Thomas  of  Wilcox’s  division,  who,  the 
former  on  the  north,  the  latter  on  the  south,  side  of 
the  road,  are  still  contesting,  but  on  the  verge  of 
disrupting  completely.  The  field  and  the  day  are 
almost  ours. 

The  Plank  Road  back  to  the  junction  is  packed, 
wounded  men  making  their  way  alone,  trying  as  best 
they  can  to  stanch  their  wounds,  some  more  seriously 
hurt  resting  their  arms  on  the  shoulders  of  their  fel- 
lows, many  on  stretchers,  with  appealing  eyes,  and 
not  a few  of  them  breathing  their  last.  In  the  throng 
are  scores  on  scores  of  lank,  wildly  staring  prisoners, 
trailing  one  another,  quickening  their  step  to  get  be- 
yond the  range  of  their  own  men’s  fire;  and,  breast- 
ing them  all,  mounted  staff  officers  coming  and  going 
with  all  possible  speed.  Edging  alongside  the  road 
are  patient  little  mules  with  boxes  of  ammunition 
strapped  to  them;  and  off  in  the  woods  on  both  sides 
of  the  road  the  dead  are  scattered,  some  not  yet  cold; 
and  off,  too,  among  them  is  many  a poor  coward  who 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  245 


at  heart  despises  himself  but  cannot  face  danger. 
And  yet  I have  not  a bit  of  doubt  that  here  and  there 
among  them  is  one  who,  before  yielding  a moral  con- 
viction, would  face  the  fires  of  the  stake  with  calm 
equanimity. 

And,  all  the  while,  over  the  motley,  fast-breathing, 
torn  shreds  and  tatters  of  war,  a section  of  our  ar- 
tillery, with  elevations  too  low  and  time-fuses  cut 
entirely  too  short,  bursts  its  shells,  shells  that  are 
intended  for  the  enemy’s  line,  where  our  men  are 
beginning  to  feel  a new  pressure,  and  are  fighting 
with  increasing  desperation,  but  owing  to  the  char- 
acter of  the  woods  and  the  ground  they  have  covered, 
they  are,  so  far  as  organization  is  concerned,  in  bad 
shape.  At  the  front  there  is  scarcely  the  semblance 
of  continuous  and  effective  formation ; regiments  and 
brigades  that  started  in  the  rear  are  now  in  the  front 
and  on  different  flanks;  their  commanders  scattered 
through  the  woods  in  little  detached,  anxious  groups, 
a staff  officer  or  two,  an  orderly  with  the  head- 
quarters guidon.  Every  one  is  filled  with  a desire  to 
go  ahead,  but  each  one  is  helpless  to  remedy  the  dis- 
organization that  is  growing  greater  and  more  dis- 
tracting at  every  moment.  Wadsworth  and  Getty  — 
a determined  spare-faced  man  with  a brown  mous- 
tache and  hazel  eye,  and  who  never  got  all  the 
praise  he  deserved  for  what  he  did  at  critical  times  on 
so  many  fields  — are  in  or  near  the  road,  the  former 
ablaze  and  looking  for  a chance  to  lead  a regiment  at 


246  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


the  first  sight  of  the  enemy,  — that  was  his  prevailing 
weakness  as  a commander:  he  had  already  had  a 
horse  killed  under  him,  — the  latter  cool  as  usual,  al- 
though each  moment  tells  him  that  a crisis  is  near. 
For  what  is  that  screaming  war-cry  they  hear  through 
the  increasing  roar  of  the  musketry?  We  need  not 
tell  them,  they  know  it  well : it  is  the  wild  fierce  yell 
of  Gregg’s  Texans  as  they  greet  Lee,  and  come  on 
to  meet  almost  their  extermination. 

When  the  narrative  parted  with  Lee  about  eleven 
o’clock  the  night  before,  he  was  in  his  tent  on  the 
western  border  of  the  Widow  Tapp’s  field.  Whether 
his  night  was  one  of  care  or  sleep  we  know  not,  but 
we  do  know  that  in  the  course  of  the  evening  he  sent 
his  accomplished  aide,  Colonel  Venable,  with  an  order 
to  Longstreet,  in  bivouac  at  Richards’s  shops,  to 
leave  the  Catharpin  Road  and  strike  over  to  the 
Plank  and  join  Hill  at  an  early  hour.  About  eleven 
o’clock  a guide  reported  to  Longstreet;  at  two  a.  m. 
he  started,  following  the  guide  through  wood-paths. 
The  guide  lost  the  way,  but  his  divisions  reached 
the  Plank  Road  at  daylight,  and  then,  doubling  up, 
quickened  their  pace,  and  came  down  the  road 
abreast.  Before  them  the  sun  was  rising  very  red, 
bronzing  the  tree-tops;  behind  them  was  Richard  H. 
Anderson’s  division  of  Hill’s  corps,  who  had  biv- 
ouacked at  Verdierville.  In  all,  fourteen  fresh  bri- 
gades were  coming  on  to  strike  the  hard-fought,  torn, 
and  wearied  divisions  of  Birney,  Wadsworth,  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  247 


Getty,  and  to  struggle  with  them  and  Webb,  Carroll, 
and  Owen,  for  the  mastery  of  the  field.  And  all  this 
time  Barlow,  Brooke,  and  Miles,  as  well  as  Smyth 
with  his  gallant  Irishmen,  are  held  by  Gibbon,  ex- 
pecting a part  if  not  all  of  Longstreet’s  ten  brigades 
to  appear  on  the  Brock  Road  from  the  direction  of 
Todd’s  Tavern!  Does  any  one  who  know’s  Gregg’s 
record  as  a soldier  think  for  a moment  that  he  would 
not  have  unmasked  at  a very  early  hour  the  first 
steps  of  a movement  of  this  kind  from  his  position 
at  Todd’s  Tavern?  It  is  true  that  word  had  been 
sent  in  to  Hancock  during  the  night  that  Long- 
street’s  corps  was  passing  up  the  Catharpin  Road 
to  attack  his  left;  but,  as  a matter  of  fact,  his  tired 
troops,  as  we  have  seen,  having  covered  twenty-eight 
miles  or  more,  had  gone  into  bivouac  at  dark  some 
eight  or  ten  miles  west  of  the  tavern,  and  were  in 
deep,  well-earned  sleep. 

The  record  seems  to  show  that  Meade,  Hancock, 
as  well  as  Gibbon  and  presumably  Humphreys  in  a 
measure,  all  harbored  a fear  that  Longstreet,  on  the 
left,  would  suddenly  appear  a portentous  spectre, 
forever  casting  its  image  on  their  minds.  There  is  no 
evidence,  however,  that  any  such  notion  had  stolen 
into  Grant’s  mind,  for,  neither  at  that  time,  nor  ever 
after,  was  there  magic  in  the  name  of  Longstreet, 
Lee,  or  any  other  Confederate,  for  him.  (Warren 
always,  when  Lee’s  movements  were  uncertain  and 
a matter  of  discussion,  referred  to  him  as  “Bobbie” 


248  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Lee,  with  an  air  and  tone  that  said  he  is  not  a man 
to  be  fooled  with.)  And  so,  let  Longstreet  be  on  the 
road  to  strike  him  at  whatsoever  point,  Grant  wanted 
Hill  and  Ewell  to  be  beaten  before  help  could  reach 
them;  hence  his  sound  conclusion  of  the  night  be- 
fore, to  attack  at  daylight. 

Meanwhile,  the  sun  is  mounting  and  Longstreet ’s 
men  are  coming  on,  — not  long  ago  I traveled  the 
same  road  and  the  limbs  of  the  trees  almost  mingled 
over  it,  and  the  woods  on  each  side  were  still  and  deep, 
— can  now  hear  the  battle,  and  are  meeting  the  faint- 
hearted who  always  fringe  the  rear  at  the  first  signs 
of  disaster.  They  are  passing  the  crowded  field-hos- 
pitals, and  encountering  ambulances,  horsemen, 
stragglers,  and  the  ever-increasing  stream  of  wounded; 
and  swerving  off  through  the  woods  on  both  sides 
of  the  road  are  the  limp  fragments  of  Heth’s  division, 
heedless  of  their  officers,  who  were  shouting  to  gain 
their  attention.  And  now  comes  one  of  Lee’s  aides, 
making  his  way  urgently  to  Parker’s  store  to  tell 
the  trains  to  get  ready  to  withdraw,  and  another  to 
Longstreet  to  hurry  up,  for,  unless  he  comes  quickly, 
the  day  is  lost.  At  this  appeal  the  men  break  into 
the  double-quick,  and  Kershaw,  whose  division  is  per- 
haps a hundred  yards  ahead  of  that  of  Field,  rides 
forward  with  a staff  officer  of  General  Wilcox  who 
has  been  sent  to  show  him  his  position.  But  before 
they  reach  Wilcox’s  line,  it  breaks,  and  Kershaw, 
seeing  it  coming,  hurries  back  to  meet  his  division. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  249 


Out  in  the  old  field  Lee,  Hill,  and  their  staffs  are 
throwing  themselves  in  front  of  the  fleeing  troops, 
imploring  them  to  rally.  From  all  accounts,  Lee’s 
face  was  a sky  of  storm  and  anxiety,  and  well  it 
might  be,  for  Catastrophe  was  knocking  at  the  door. 
When  McGowan  passed  him  Lee  exclaimed,  “My 
God!  General  McGowan!  is  this  splendid  brigade  of 
yours  running  like  a flock  of  geese?” 

It  is  now  a question  of  minutes.  The  rolling  mus- 
ketry is  at  its  height,  one  roar  after  another  break- 
ing, sheets  of  bullets  are  thridding  the  air,  and  a half- 
dozen  cannon  are  firing  rapidly  blasting-charges  of 
double  canister,  for  our  men  are  close  up. 

Kershaw  throws  all  of  Henagan’s  brigade,  save 
the  Second  South  Carolina,  well  to  the  left  of  the 
road;  that  he  deploys  on  the  right  under  the  fire  of 
Birney’s  troops,  who  are  penetrating  the  woods  to 
the  left  of  the  Confederate  batteries.  His  next  bri- 
gade, Humphreys’s,  is  rushing  up,  its  left  on  the  south 
side  of  the  road,  Henagan  having  swung  off,  making 
room  for  him  in  the  immediate  front  of  our  most 
advanced  line.  Field  throws  his  first  brigade,  G.  T. 
Anderson’s,  to  the  right  of  the  road;  but  before  this 
movement  could  be  followed,  Longstreet,  who  was 
on  hand,  with  his  usual  imperturbable  coolness,  so 
says  Venable,  tells  Field  to  form  and  charge  with 
any  front  he  can  make.  Accordingly  in  an  instant 
he  puts  his  second  brigade,  the  Texans,  in  line  of  bat- 
tle under  Gregg.  There  were  three  General  Greggs  on 


250  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


the  field,  this  one  the  Confederate,  and  on  our  side 
David  and  Irvin,  brothers  from  Pennsylvania. 

Just  as  they  start,  Lee  catches  sight  of  them  and 
gallops  up  and  asks  sharply,  “What  brigade  is  this  ?” 
“ The  Texas  brigade,”  is  the  resolute  response.  “ Gen- 
eral Lee  raised  himself  in  his  stirrups,”  — so  said  a 
courier,  in  “ The  Land  We  Love,”  only  a few  years  after 
the  war,  — “uncovered  his  gray  hairs,  and  with  an 
earnest  yet  anxious  voice  exclaimed  above  the  din, 
‘My  Texas  boys,  you  must  charge.’  A yell  rent  the 
air,”  and  the  men  dashed  forward  through  the  wreck- 
age of  Hill’s  corps  and  under  a stinging  fire  from  our 
sharpshooters.  On  they  go,  and  now  they  have  passed 
through  Williams’s  guns,  their  muzzles  still  smoking, 
when  suddenly  they  hear,  “Charge,  charge,  men!” 
from  a new,  full  voice,  and  there  behind  them  is  Lee 
himself,  his  warm  brown  eyes  aflame.  “Come  back, 
come  back,  General  Lee!”  cry  out  the  cannoneers 
earnestly;  he  does  not  heed  and  rides  on;  but  a 
sergeant  now  takes  hold  of  Traveller’s  rein.  — It  is 
a great  pity  that  we  have  not  a picture  of  that  ser- 
geant’s face  as  he  turns  the  big  gray  horse  around  and 
exchanges  a firm,  kindly  glance  with  his  rider.  — Lee 
yields  to  his  better  judgment  and  joins  Longstreet 
who,  on  the  knoll  near  by,  is  throwing  his  brigades 
in  as  he  did  at  Gettysburg,  with  the  calmness  of  a 
man  who  is  wielding  a sledge. 

Field,  the  large,  handsome  “Charley”  Field  of  our 
West  Point  days,  he  who  rode  so  proudly  at  the  head 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  251 


of  the  escort  for  the  late  King  of  England  when  he 
came  as  a boy  to  visit  the  Point,  — I wonder,  if 
Field  in  the  reveries  of  his  old  age,  while  basking  in 
the  memories  of  departed  days,  whether  it  was  Ben- 
ning’s  Georgians  or  the  battalion  of  West  Point  cadets 
he  saw  himself  leading,  — oh,  what  children  of  Des- 
tiny we  are!  — But  on  he  comes  with  Benning,  who 
is  following  the  track  of  the  Texans,  who  are  alone, 
and  after  smashing  through  Wadsworth’s  lines  find 
themselves  enfiladed  by  a terrible  fire  from  the  south 
side  of  the  road  against  which  the  Fourth  Texas  was 
sent  but  could  not  stop  it,  and  was  only  saved  from 
annihilation  by  Kershaw’s  advance.  Perry,  command- 
ing Law’s  brigade  of  Field’s  division,  is  turning  from 
the  Plank  Road  into  the  Widow  Tapp  field  at  double- 
quick,  and  beginning  to  form  spryly.  His  Fifteenth 
Alabama  passes  within  a few  feet  of  Lee,  behind 
whom,  on  their  horses,  are  a group  of  his  staff.  His 
face  is  still  flushed  — he  has  just  returned  from  try- 
ing to  lead  the  Texans  — and  his  blazing  eyes  are 
fixed  intently  on  Kershaw’s  leading  regiment  that 
is  forming  line  of  battle  and  through  whose  ranks  the 
retreating  masses  of  Heth’s  and  Wilcox’s  divisions 
are  breaking.  Aroused  by  this  jeopardous  disorder, 
he  turns  suddenly  in  his  saddle  toward  his  staff,  and, 
pointing  his  gloved  hand  across  the  road,  says  in 
vigorous  tones,  “Send  an  active  young  staff  officer 
down  there.”  Then,  casting  his  eyes  on  the  ragged  men 
filing  by  him,  he  asks  kindly,  “What  men  are  these?” 


252  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


A private  answers  proudly,  “Law’s  Alabama  bri- 
gade.” Lee  bares  his  gray  hairs  once  more  and  re- 
plies, “God  bless  the  Alabamians!”  They,  with 
colors  slanting  forward,  grasp  their  arms  tightly  and 
swing  on,  the  left  obliquing  till  it  brushes  the  young 
pines  along  the  northern  side  of  the  old  opening. 
Already  from  the  smoke-turbaned  woods  ahead  of 
them  come  bleeding  and  mangled  Texans  and  Geor- 
gians, their  blood  striping  across  the  garden,  the  door- 
yard,  and  the  path  to  the  well  of  the  Widow  Tapp’s 
humble  abode;  but  on  with  increasing  speed  toward 
the  dead-strewn  front  march  the  brave  Alabamians. 

And  who  is  this  officer  on  the  litter?  Benning; 
Gregg  has  already  been  borne  to  the  rear.  And  now 
what  organization  is  that  we  see  coming  into  line, 
there  on  the  western  edge  of  the  field  beyond  Lee 
and  Longstreet,  obstructed  by  Hill’s  retreating  frag- 
ments? That  is  “Charley”  Field’s  largest  brigade, 
made  up  entirely  of  South  Carolinians.  And  the 
colors  over  them?  The  Palmetto  Flag,  the  ensign  and 
pride  of  their  contumacious,  insubordinate  state,  the 
first  to  nurse  the  spirit  which  has  led  the  dear  Old 
Dominion  and  her  sister  states  into  their  woe.  As 
usual,  it  is  fluttering  mutinously,  hankering  to  en- 
gage the  Stars  and  Stripes,  which  has  not  forgotten 
that  this  Palmetto  ensign  flaunted  over  the  first  guns 
to  fire  on  it,  as  it  flew,  the  emblem  of  Union  and  Peace, 
flew  warm  with  the  hopes  of  the  obscure  of  all  civ- 
ilized lands,  and  dreaming  of  the  day  when  every  flag 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  253 


of  the  world  shall  do  it  homage.  And  at  its  very  sight 
the  nation’s  colors  blaze  up  with  righteous  hostility; 
and  as  where  or  whensoever  seen,  in  the  Wilderness 
or  at  Gettysburg  or  Chickamauga,  the  old  banner  of 
Washington’s  day  with  a voice  like  an  eagle’s  shriek, 
cries  “Come  on,  Palmetto  Flag!”  And  lo!  to-day,  to 
the  credit  of  our  common  natures,  the  two  banners 
are  reconciled. 

The  onset  of  Gregg’s  Texans  was  savage,  — it 
could  not  have  been  less  after  asking  Lee  to  go  back. 
They  dashed  at  Wadsworth’s  riddled  front,  through 
which  the  battery  had  been  cutting  swaths;  and  be- 
sides that,  two  12-pound  guns  and  one  24-pound 
howitzer  had  run  forward  into  the  Plank  Road  and 
were  pouring  their  canister  into  his  huddled  and  crum- 
bling flanks.  Fatigue  and  want  of  coherence  were 
breaking  down  the  fighting  power  of  his  men,  yet 
they  met  this  shock  with  great  fortitude.  Cope,  and 
he  was  right  there,  said  in  a despatch  to  Warren, 
“Wadsworth  has  been  slowly  pushed  back,  but 
is  contesting  every  inch  of  the  ground”;  and  it  was 
not  until  Benning  and  Perry  struck  them  that  they 
began  to  waver,  then  break,  and  finally  disrupt  in 
great  confusion.  About  half  of  them,  under  Rice 
and  Wadsworth,  fled  back  across  the  morass  to  the 
last  line  of  logs  and  chunks  from  which  they  had 
driven  the  enemy;  the  other  half  with  Cutler  took 
the  course  they  had  come  the  previous  evening.  The 
narrative  has  already  told  where  they  were  met. 


254  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


While  these  troops  were  breaking,  Carroll,  not  yet 
engaged,  was  ordered  by  Birney  in  person  to  send 
some  of  his  brigade  back  to  the  north  side,  he  having 
moved  by  flank  across  to  the  south  of  the  road,  hav- 
ing heard  heavy  firing  in  that  direction.  He  sent  the 
Eighth  Ohio,  Fourteenth  Indiana,  and  Seventh  West 
Virginia.  Thus,  apparently,  at  that  moment  the 
north  side  of  the  road  was  clear  for  Field;  but  he  could 
not  push  his  advantage,  for  Birney,  Ward,  and 
Coulter,  who  had  taken  Baxter’s  place  after  he 
was  wounded,  held  Kershaw  stubbornly.  Moreover, 
Owen,  followed  by  the  Nineteenth  Maine  of  Webb’s 
brigade,  who  had  reported  to  Carroll  the  night  be- 
fore, had  gained  a position  on  the  immediate  south 
side  of  the  road,  and  was  firing  into  Benning’s  and 
Perry’s  right,  causing  them  to  suffer  severely. 

“The  enemy  held  my  three  brigades  so  obstin- 
ately,” says  Kershaw,  “that,  urged  forward  by  Long- 
street,  I placed  myself  at  the  head  of  the  troops  and 
led  in  person  a charge  of  the  whole  command,  which 
drove  the  enemy  to  and  beyond  their  original  lines.” 

This  position  was  just  about  opposite  to  where 
Wadsworth  was  now  collecting  the  fragments  of  his 
command  on  the  north  side  of  the  road,  and  was  held 
by  Carroll  and  the  Vermonters,  and  these  men  Ker- 
shaw could  not  budge.  Grimes  and  Wofford,  who  had 
advanced  on  Kershaw’s  right,  had  not  made  mate- 
rial headway  against  McAlister  on  Mott’s  left,  but 
they  had  discovered  what  finally  almost  gave  them 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  255 


the  day,  that  our  lines  did  not  extend  to  the  unfin- 
ished railroad,  in  fact  they  did  not  reach  over  a half- 
mile,  if  that,  from  the  Plank  Road. 

In  the  midst  of  Kershaw’s  onslaught  Getty  was 
wounded,  and  Lyman  in  his  notes  says,  “ Getty  rode 
past  me  looking  pale;  to  my  inquiry  he  said,  ‘I  am 
shot  through  the  shoulder,  I don’t  know  how  badly.’ 
A man  [goes  on  Lyman]  of  indomitable  courage  and 
coolness.  One  of  his  aides  (the  fair-haired  one)  shot 
through  the  arm,  the  other,  his  horse  shot.  Immortal 
fighting  did  that  Second  Division,  Sixth  Corps,  on 
those  two  bloody  days.” 

^ While  Carroll,  the  Vermont  brigade,  and  the  stout- 
hearted of  all  the  broken  commands  that  had  rallied 
behind  them,  were  standing  off  Kershaw,  up  the  road 
comes  Webb  at  the  head  of  his  gallant  brigade.  Wads- 
worth and  Birney  are  there,  trying  to  form  troops 
for  an  advance.  “There  were  several  commands  and 
no  orderly  arrangement  as  to  lines,  front,  etc.,”  says 
Governor  Connor.  On  reporting  to  Birney,  Webb  is 
directed  to  deploy  on  the  right  of  the  road  and  move 
forward  and  join  Getty,  whom  Birney  had  asked 
to  send  some  strength  to  the  north  side  of  the  road. 
Webb  deploys,  and  on  he  comes;  the  Nineteenth  Maine 
have  gladly  reunited  with  their  comrades  and  been  put 
on  the  extreme  right.  On  the  left  is  the  Twentieth 
Massachusetts  under  Abbott.  “Waved  my  hand  to 
Abbott,”  says  Lyman,  “as  he  rode  past  at  the  head  of 
the  Twentieth,  smiling  gayly.”  Smile  on,  dear  heroic 


256  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


young  fellow!  Your  smile  will  play  on  many  a page, 
and  the  Wilderness  holds  it  dear;  for  her  heart  is 
with  you,  and  in  years  to  come,  when  the  dogwood 
and  the  wild  roses  are  blooming,  she  will  softly  breathe 
your  name  through  the  tree-tops  as  she  recalls  that 
smile.  Oh,  how  close  we  are  to  woods  and  streams, 
the  traveling  winds,  the  banded  evening  clouds,  and, 
yes,  even  the  distant  stars! 

On  comes  Webb,  his  line  strung  out  through  the 
woods,  no  skirmishers  ahead,  for  he  is  expecting  mo- 
mentarily to  come  up  with  Getty,  when  suddenly 
there  is  a terrific  crash,  causing  a fearful  loss.  But, 
standing  among  the  wounded  and  the  dying,  his 
brigade  holds  fast  and  returns  the  fire;  the  enemy 
are  just  across  the  morass,  in  places  not  more  than 
twenty  or  thirty  yards  away.  He  has  come  squarely 
up  against  what  is  left  of  Gregg’s,  Benning’s,  and 
about  all  of  Perry’s  fresh  brigade.  Woolsey  of  Meade’s 
staff  sends  back  word:  “7.27  a.  m.  Webb,  who  went 
in  a short  time  since,  is  doing  very  well.  The  fire  is 
very  heavy,  but  not  gaining.  Wounded  returning 
on  Plank  Road.  7.35.  The  fire  is  slackening  and  our 
men  cheer.  7.40.  The  firing  is  heaviest  on  the  right 
of  the  Plank  Road  [Webb’s];  our  men  are  cheering 
again.”  And  there  they  battle  back  and  forward 
amid  a continuous  roar  of  musketry;  not  they  alone, 
for  Kershaw,  knowing  that  Lee’s  and  Longstreet’s 
eyes  are  on  him,  is  crowding  his  men  desperately 
against  Carroll’s  and  Birney’s  and  Mott’s  iron- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  257 


hearted  veterans,  and  those  ever  steadfast  sons  of 
the  Green  Mountain  State.  The  bark-scored  and 
bullet-pitted  trees  around  them  are  wreathed  in 
smoke,  and,  like  sheaves  of  wheat,  bodies  are  lying 
on  the  leaf-strewn  ground,  unconscious  now  of  the 
deafening  crashes  with  which  the  gloomy  Wilderness 
jars  far  and  wide,  and  roars  to  the  over-arching,  lis- 
tening sky. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Webb’s  desperate 
fighting  saved  the  north  side  of  the  Plank  Road  at 
this  crisis  by  checking  Field’s  three  brigades  — 
Gregg’s,  Benning’s,  and  Law’s,  the  latter  under  Gen- 
eral William  F.  Perry,  to  whom  the  credit  may  be 
given  of  saving  the  north  side  of  the  Widow  Tapp 
field  from  Kitching’s  grasp  who  had  come  up  from 
the  Lacy  house  to  help  Wadsworth.  This  Perry  ac- 
complished by  throwing  against  Kitching  his  left 
regiment,  the  Fifteenth  Alabama,  Colonel  Oates, 
as  he  advanced  on  his  way  to  support  Benning  and 
Gregg.  Oates  having  rejoined  his  fellow  regiments 
after  repulsing  Kitching,  and  Perrin’s  Alabama  and 
the  Florida  brigade  of  Anderson’s  division  having 
reported,  and  all  taking  a hand  at  Webb’s  line,  he 
found  his  right  overlapped  and  changed  front  to  rear 
at  double-quick  on  his  left  regiment,  the  Twentieth 
Massachusetts  resting  on  the  road,  and  stood  them 
off. 

Meanwhile  Hancock,  having  been  notified  by 
Meade  that  Burnside  was  about  to  attack  Field’s 


258  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


flank,  sent  for  Wadsworth  and  told  him  that  he  had 
ordered  three  brigades,  Webb’s,  Ward’s,  and  Car- 
ruth’s,  of  Stevenson’s  division,  to  report  to  him, 
and  wished  that  he  with  these  additional  troops  would 
carry,  if  possible,  the  enemy’s  position  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  road.  In  Carruth’s  brigade  was  my 
friend  Frank  Bartlett’s  regiment,  the  Fifty-seventh 
of  Massachusetts  and  the  Fifty -sixth  under  Colonel 
Griswold.  On  their  way  to  the  front  a member  of 
Griswold’s  regiment  — commanded  by  S.  M.  Weld  of 
Boston  after  Griswold’s  death  that  morning  — gave 
drink  like  a good  Samaritan  to  a wounded  Confeder- 
ate, who,  as  soon  as  the  line  passed  him,  seized  a 
musket  and  began  to  fire  on  the  very  men  who  had 
been  kind  to  him.  With  righteous  indignation  they 
turned  and  exterminated  the  varmint;  and  then  on 
with  renewed  determination  to  have  it  out  with  their 
country’s  enemies. 

: The  intrepid  Wadsworth,  returning  to  the  front, 
and  seeing  the  Twentieth  Massachusetts  athwart 
the  road  where  Webb  had  left  it,  his  vehement  spirit 
set  on  fire  by  Hancock’s  ardent  and  communicative 
aggressiveness,  asked  in  pungent,  challenging  tones, 
“Cannot  you  do  something  here?”  Abbott  hesitat- 
ing, mindful  of  Webb’s  order  to  hold  that  point  at 
all  hazards,  the  high-spirited  Wadsworth,  who  by 
nature  was  more  an  individual  combatant  than  the 
cool  and  trained  commander,  leaped  the  little  bar- 
rier of  rotten  planks  torn  from  the  decaying  road-bed, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  259 


and  of  course  Abbott  and  the  Twentieth  followed 
him.  Wadsworth’s  second  horse  was  killed,  and  the 
regiment  was  met  immediately  with  a withering  vol- 
ley. After  striving  in  vain  to  drive  the  enemy,  Abbott 
had  to  desist  from  further  efforts.  He  then  ordered 
the  men  to  lie  down  so  as  to  escape  a wicked,  sputter- 
ing fire;  but  he  himself,  young  and  handsome,  coolly 
and  without  bravado  walked  back  and  forth  before 
his  line,  his  eyes  and  face  lit  by  the  finest  candle  that 
glows  in  the  hand  of  Duty.  “My  God,  Schaff,”  said 
to  me  the  brave  Captain  Magnitsky  of  the  Twentieth, 
with  moistened  eyes,  “I  was  proud  of  him  as  back 
and  forth  he  slowly  walked  before  us.”  A shot  soon 
struck  him  and  he  fell.  They  tenderly  picked  up  the 
mortally  wounded,  gallant  gentleman  and  carried  him 
to  the  rear.  Bartlett  reached  Webb  about  the  time 
he  had  changed  front  forward  onto  the  sorely  stricken 
Twentieth  and  formed  in  rear  of  his  left  centre.  It 
w7as  now  about  9.30.  Wadsworth,  catching  sight  of 
Bartlett’s  colors  flying  defiantly  in  the  face  of  Field’s 
oncoming  veterans,  called  on  him  in  person  to  charge 
over  some  troops  weakened  by  repulses,  who  were 
hesitating  — and  he  and  his  men  responded  well.  I 
can  hear  Bartlett’s  voice  ringing,  “Forward,”  and  see 
his  spare,  well-bred  face  lit  up  dauntlessly  by  those 
intense  blue  eyes;  eyes  I have  seen  glint  more  than 
once  with  pleasant  humor,  for  he  had,  besides  cour- 
age, the  spirit  of  comradeship,  that  pleasant,  cloud- 
reflecting  stream,  rippling  and  green  banked,  that 


260  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


flows  through  our  natures.  But  in  a little  while  a shot 
struck  him  in  the  temple,  and  he  followed  his  college 
friend,  Abbott,  to  the  field  hospital;  — he  had  already 
lost  his  left  leg  at  Yorktown,  and  been  seriously 
wounded  in  two  places  leading  an  assault  at  Port 
Hudson.  The  regiment  lost  252  killed  and  wounded. 

Wadsworth,  after  the  charge,  exclaimed,  “Glori- 
ous!” but,  like  all  the  gains,  theirs  was  temporary. 
For  Field’s  fresh  veterans  coming  up  from  where 
Burnside  should  have  held  them,  he  attacked  fiercely; 
yet,  try  as  he  might,  Webb  finally  fought  him  to  a 
standstill.  And  so  was  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  road : 
Carroll,  Grant,  and  Birney’s  remnants,  and  McAlis- 
ter of  Mott’s  division,  had  thrown  Kershaw  and 
Wofford  back  till  they,  too,  were  glad  to  stop  for  a 
while. 

At  the  mention  of  McAlister’s  name  my  sense  of 
humor  asks,  “Can’t  you  stop  the  narrative  long 

enough  to  tell  about  General  ?”  This  general 

represented  Gibbon’s  lone  response  to  Hancock’s 
order  to  attack  at  seven  o’clock  up  the  bed  of  the 
unfinished  railroad  with  Barlow’s  division.  He  was 
a whiskey-pickled,  lately-arrived,  blusterous  German, 
and  when  he  reached  McAlister  on  the  left  of  the 
line,  he  wanted  to  burst  right  through,  saying  his  or- 
ders were,  “To  find  the  enemy  wherever  he  could  find 
him  and  whip  him  ! ! /”  Having  blown  this  trombone 
Germanic  blast,  he  spurred  his  nag  and  dashed  at 
the  “rebels.”  Pretty  soon  he  sent  to  McAlister  to 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  261 


come  up  and  relieve  him,  which  McAlister  refused  to 
do,  when  back  came  part  of  the  brigade  running, 
and  Blank  with  them.  “ I want  to  get  ammunition,”  he 
exclaimed.  “Where?”  asked  McAlister.  “Away  back 
in  the  rear,”  he  shouted  as  off  he  went.  “That  was 
the  last  I saw  of  him  or  his  command,”  says  McAlis- 
ter. Notwithstanding  there  is  a considerable  strain  of 
German  blood  in  my  veins,  there  is  something  about 
the  swelling  assertive  military  airs  of  that  nationality 
which  is  very  humorous  and  at  the  same  time  very 
nauseating.  But  I suppose  really  that  McAlister  ought 
to  have  given  the  poor  fellow  a little  aid,  if,  for  no 
other  reason,  than  that  his  land  sent  so  many  Hes- 
sians here  during  the  Revolution. 


X 


When  the  narrative  was  halted  it  was  saying  that 
the  Confederates  and  ourselves  were  glad  to  stop 
for  a while.  It  was  now  going  on  ten  o’clock,  and 
there  was  a lull  all  along  the  lines.  And  while  it  lasts, 
let  us  turn  to  Hancock,  not  forgetting  that  while  Bir- 
ney  and  Wadsworth  and  Webb  were  engaging  so 
fiercely,  he  was  beset  with  distracting  and  untoward 
happenings  “in  good  measure,  pressed  down  and 
shaken  together  and  running  over.”  At  nine  o’clock, 
while  his  attention  is  strained  on  the  renewed  offensive 
up  the  Plank  Road,  this  despatch  from  Humphreys  is 
handed  to  him:  “Sheridan  has  been  ordered  to  attack 
Longstreet’s  flank  and  rear  by  the  Brock  Road.” 
“Longstreet’s  flank  and  rear  by  the  Brock  Road!”  he 
repeats  to  himself;  “Humphreys  must  have  located 
him  definitely;  and  yet  we  have  prisoners  from  his 
corps.”  Just  then  to  help  confirm  Humphreys’s  news 
the  distant  boom  of  Custer’s  guns  comes  through  the 
smothering  timber;  and  the  footsteps  of  the  haunting 
peril  that  has  been  dogging  Hancock  all  the  morning 
are  closer  than  ever. 

To  clear  up  the  reference  to  Custer’s  guns  it  should 
be  told  that  under  Sheridan’s  orders  he  had  left  Chan- 
cellorsville  at  2 a.  m.  for  the  intersection  of  the  Fur- 
nace and  Brock  roads,  which,  as  the  map  will  show. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  263 


is  about  a mile  beyond  where  Hancock’s  return 
line  of  breastworks  crossed  the  latter.  He  reached 
there  just  in  time  to  head  off  Rosser  and  Fitz  Lee 
from  laying  hold  of  this  important  point. 

Gregg,  one  of  the  best  and  most  reliable  of  our  cav- 
alry commanders,  was  at  Todd’s  Tavern  looking  out 
for  Stuart,  Merritt,  commanding  the  Regular  Cavalry 
brigade,  within  reach.  Wilson  who  had  been  drawn 
back  to  Chancellorsville  during  the  night,  after  re- 
newal of  ammunition  and  supplies,  had  posted  one 
of  his  brigades  at  Piney  Branch  Church  and  the  other 
at  Aldrich’s. 

I cannot  mention  the  names  of  Wilson  and  Custer 
and  Merritt  without  seeing  their  faces  again  as  cadets, 
and  feeling  a wave  of  warm  memories.  God  bless 
the  living;  and  Trumpets,  peal  once  more  for  me,  if 
you  will,  over  Custer’s  grave. 

So  much  then  for  the  guns  which  Hancock  heard 
as  he  read  Humphreys’s  despatch  that  Sheridan  was 
about  to  attack  Longstreet.  Humphreys’s  aide  had 
just  gone  when  here  came  Hancock’s  own  trusted 
aide,  the  one  to  whom  he  always  turned  for  final 
decision  of  any  fact,  Colonel  Morgan,  who  reported 
that  the  enemy  were  actually  advancing  on  the  Brock 
Road.  I think  I can  see  Hancock,  for  I was  near  him 
during  one  of  the  charges  at  Spottsylvania  and  know 
that  kind  of  news  was  received.  He  orders  Birney 
to  send  a brigade  at  once  to  Gibbon  (bear  in  mind 
that  it  is  a little  after  nine,  and  that  we  have  seen 


264  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


that  Birney  has  need  of  every  man  along  his  bullet- 
sheeted  front).  Birney  detaches  Eustis’s  brigade  of 
the  Sixth  Corps,  and  starts  it  toward  the  junction. 
A few  minutes  elapse,  and  Hancock  tells  Carroll  to 
send  a regiment;  and,  probably  hearing  another  of 
Custer’s  guns,  he  sets  the  resolute  Brooke  in  motion, 
and  with  him  Coulter,  who  has  gathered  the  remains 
of  Baxter’s  brigade  — the  one  which  the  light-haired 
and  light-moustached,  medium-sized  and  trim  Ker- 
shaw first  struck,  and  which  had  drifted  back  out 
of  action.  Before  Eustis  reaches  the  junction,  along 
comes  Leasure’s  delayed  brigade  of  Stevenson’s 
division,  and  Hancock  tells  them  to  keep  right  on 
down  the  road  and  help  Gibbon;  — Eustis,  ap- 
proaching the  Brock,  and  seeing  Leasure’s  column 
hurrying  by,  knows  he  must  not  break  through,  and 
halts.  Hancock,  having  a moment  to  think,  con- 
cludes that  Gibbon,  aided  by  Tidball  with  practi- 
cally all  the  artillery  of  the  corps,  and  the  troops 
already  on  the  way  to  him,  can  take  care  of  Long- 
street,  directs  Eustis  to  countermarch  and  go  back 
to  his  fellows  under  Wadsworth  and  Birney. 

Hancock  has  a moment’s  respite,  but  here  comes 
ill-faced  Trouble  again.  What  is  it.  Creature  ? 
“ Humphreys  orders  you  to  take  immediate  steps  to 
repair  the  break  the  enemy  has  made  through  War- 
ren’s left”  (referring  to  Cutler).  “ Great  God ! What ’s 
happened  there?”  I can  hear  him  say,  and  off  he 
propels  an  aide  to  Birney  to  send  two  brigades  to  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  265 


right  to  fill  Cutler’s  gap.  And  that  order  is  no  sooner 
sent  than  here  conies  a message  from  Meade,  saying 
that  he  hopes  that  nothing  will  delay  or  prevent  his 
attacking  simultaneously  with  Burnside! 

Fight  Longstreet  as  he  comes  up  the  Brock  Road! 
attack  simultaneously  with  Burnside!  detach  two 
brigades  from  Birney  to  fill  a gap ! Surely  Hancock’s 
measure  of  trials  was  pressed  down  and  running  over; 
and  lo!  Longstreet  was  not  on  the  Brock  Road  at 
all,  there  was  no  gap  in  Warren’s  lines,  and  Burnside 
was  nowhere  near  attacking,  simultaneously  or  other- 
wise. — Meade  ought  to  have  remembered  how  long 
it  took  “Old  Burn”  to  get  ready  at  Antietam. 

But  cheer  up,  gallant  Hancock!  The  hour-glass  of 
your  tormenting  perplexities  is  about  run  out.  Gib- 
bon has  discovered  at  last  (10.10  a.m.)  that  the  enemy 
he  had  seen  looming  up  on  the  Brock  Road  are 
several  hundred  hospital-bleached  convalescents,  who, 
by  some  stupid  provost-marshal  at  Chancellorsville, 
have  been  allowed  to  follow  the  corps’  march  of  the 
day  before  around  by  way  of  Todd’s  Tavern. 

Upon  discovering  that  the  dreaded  infantry  were 
these  limp  convalescents,  and  not  Longstreet’s  vet- 
erans, I have  no  doubt  that  the  wrinkled-browed, 
closely-cropped,  reddish-bearded  Gibbon  breathed  a 
long  sigh  of  relief,  and  at  once  flew  with  the  news  to 
Hancock.  Well,  of  course  I do  not  know  just  what 
happened,  but  I have  no  doubt  that  the  oaks  about 
the  junction  remember  Hancock’s  explosion  well, 


266  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  ' 


or  that  the  recording  angel  suddenly  found  himself 
busy,  and,  when  his  pen  could  n’t  keep  up,  looked 
downward,  — apparently  there  was  no  end  to  the 
emphatic  procession  in  sight,  — and,  feeling  kindly 
toward  Hancock,  knowing  he  was  a brave,  warm- 
hearted fellow  who  would  reach  his  hand  compas- 
sionately to  a stricken  enemy,  and  that  he  had  been 
badly  pestered,  closed  the  books  and  deliberately 
turned  on  an  electrical  buzzer,  and  cut  off  all  com- 
munication with  the  Wilderness.  And  behold,  when 
the  books  were  opened  again,  some  great  hand  — on 
the  plea  of  the  Centurion,  I have  no  doubt  — had 
written  “Excused”  after  every  one  of  the  entries. 

I cannot  recall  an  instance  during  the  war  when 
any  corps  commander  had  such  a badgering  hour  as 
Hancock  that  second  morning  in  the  Wilderness. 
He  was  naturally  impulsive,  and  when  he  could  not 
see  his  enemy,  or,  in  other  words,  when  he  was  in  the 
woods,  he  was  like  an  eagle  with  drenched  wings  and 
very  restless. 

Meanwhile  the  lull  that  has  heretofore  been  re- 
ferred to  is  going  on,  in  places  the  woods  are  afire, 
and  Wadsworth  has  dismounted  and  is  alone  with 
Monteith  of  his  staff,  who  says:  “He  [Wadsworth] 
told  me  that  he  felt  completely  exhausted  and  worn 
out,  that  he  was  unfit  (physically)  to  command,  and 
felt  that  he  ought  in  justice  to  himself  and  his  men 
to  turn  the  command  over  to  Cutler.  He  asked  me 
to  get  him  a cracker,  which  I did.” 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  267 


And  while  this  gray-haired  patriot  and  gentleman 
and  the  North’s  nearest  aristocrat  and  nobleman  is 
resting  for  the  few  minutes  that  are  left  of  his  heroic 
life,  let  us  see  what  advantage  Longstreet  was  taking 
of  this  ominous  lull. 

General  M.  L.  Smith,  a New  Yorker  and  a distin- 
guished graduate  of  West  Point,  doing  engineer  duty 
with  Lee’s  army,  had  examined  our  left,  and,  finding 
it  inviting  attack,  so  reported  to  Longstreet.  Now 
there  is  on  Longstreet’s  staff  a tall,  trim,  graceful 
young  Georgian,  with  keen  dark  eyes  and  engaging 
face,  whose  courage  and  ability  to  command,  Long- 
street knows  well,  for  he  has  been  with  him  on  many 
a field.  His  name  is  Sorrel,  and  his  gallant  clay  is  ly- 
ing in  the  cemetery  at  Savannah,  the  long,  pendulant 
Southern  moss  swaying  softly  over  it.  His  “Recol- 
lections of  a Confederate  Staff  Officer”  has  for  me, 
like  all  the  books  I love,  a low,  natural,  wild  music; 
and,  as  sure  as  I live,  the  spirits  who  dwell  in  that 
self-sown  grove  called  Literature  were  by  his  side 
when  he  wrote  the  last  page  of  his  Recollections,  his 
pen  keeping  step  with  his  beating  heart.  Longstreet, 
on  hearing  Smith’s  report,  called  Sorrel  to  him,  and 
told  him  to  collect  some  scattered  brigades,  form 
them  in  a good  line  on  our  left,  and  then,  with  his 
right  pushed  forward,  to  hit  hard.  “But  don’t  start 
till  you  have  everything  ready.  I shall  be  waiting 
for  your  gun-fire,  and  be  on  hand  with  fresh  troops  for 
further  advance,”  said  Longstreet. 


268  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Sorrel  picked  up  G.  T.  Anderson’s,  Wofford’s,  Da- 
vis’s of  Heth’s,  and  Mahone’s  brigades,  and  led  them  to 
the  old  unfinished  railroad  bed;  and,  having  stretched 
them  out  on  it,  formed  them,  facing  north,  for  ad- 
vance. Of  course,  had  Gibbon  obeyed  Hancock’s  or- 
der, this  movement  of  Sorrel’s  could  not  have  been 
made;  as  it  was,  the  coast  was  clear.  On  Birney’s 
left,  as  everywhere  along  the  front,  our  forces  were  in 
several  broken  lines,  and  those  of  the  first  had  changed 
places  with  the  second,  to  take  advantage  of  the  lit- 
tle fires  at  which  they  had  boiled  their  coffee  to  boil 
some  for  themselves;  for  many  of  the  troops  had  not 
had  a bite  since  half-past  three  in  the  morning,  and 
it  was  now  past  eleven.  Save  the  skirmish  line,  the 
men  were  lying  down,  and  not  expecting  any  danger, 
when  suddenly,  from  the  heavy  undergrowth,  Sorrel’s 
three  widely-winged  brigades  burst  on  their  flank 
with  the  customary  yell,  and  before  our  people  could 
change  front,  or,  in  some  cases,  even  form,  they  were 
on  them.  Fighting  McAlister  tried  his  best  to  stay 
the  tempest,  and  so  did  others,  many  little  groups 
of  their  men  selling  their  lives  dearly;  for  the  color- 
bearers  planted  their  banners  on  nearly  every  knoll, 
and  brave  young  fellows  would  rally  around  them; 
but  being  overpowered,  panic  set  in,  and  the  lines 
melted  away. 

As  soon  as  Carroll,  Lewis  A.  Grant,  Birney,  Webb, 
and  Wadsworth  heard  Sorrel’s  quick  volleys,  they 
were  all  on  their  feet  at  once,  for  the  character  of  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  269 


firing  and  the  cheers  told  them  that  Peril  had  snapped 
its  chain  and  was  loose.  In  a few  minutes  fleeing  in- 
dividuals, then  squads,  and  then  broken  regiments, 
began  to  pour  through  the  woods  from  the  left. 

Kershaw  and  Field,  being  notified  by  Longstreet 
to  resume  the  offensive  as  soon  as  they  should  hear 
Sorrel,  now  pressed  forward,  seriously  and  exultingly 
active.  Wadsworth,  to  stay  the  threatening  disaster 
(for  that  lunatic,  Panic,  travels  fast,  and  every  officer 
of  experience  dreads  its  first  breath),  flew  to  the 
Thirty-seventh  Massachusetts  at  the  head  of  Eustis’s 
brigade,  which  was  just  getting  back  from  the  junc- 
tion, and  ordered  Edwards,  a resolute  man,  to  throw 
his  regiment  across  the  front  of  Field,  who,  with  sev- 
eral pieces  of  artillery  raking  the  road,  was  advan- 
cing. The  Thirty-seventh  moved  quickly  by  flank 
into  the  woods,  and  then,  undismayed,  heard  the 
command,  “Forward.”  And  with  it  went  my  friends. 
Lieutenants  Casey  and  Chalmers,  and  that  pleasant 
and  true  one  of  many  a day.  Captain  “Tom”  Colt 
of  Pittsfield,  whose  mother  was  a saint.  “You  have 
made  a splendid  charge!”  exclaimed  Wadsworth, 
and  so  they  had  — the  ground  behind  them  showed 
it;  they  thrust  Field  back,  gaining  a little  respite  for 
all  hands  before  disaster;  and  very  valuable  it  proved 
to  be,  for  some  of  the  broken  commands  thereby 
escaped  utter  destruction. 

While  Field  and  Kershaw  assailed  Carroll,  Birney, 
and  Wadsworth  fiercely,  fire  was  racing  through  the 


270  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


woods,  adding  its  horrors  to  Sorrel’s  advance;  and 
with  the  wind  driving  the  smoke  before  him,  he  came 
on,  sweeping  everything.  Seeing  his  lines  falter. 
Sorrel  dashed  up  to  the  color-bearer  of  the  Twelfth 
Virginia,  “Ben”  May,  and  asked  for  the  colors  to 
lead  the  charge.  “We  will  follow  you,”  said  the 
smiling  youth  spiritedly,  refusing  to  give  them  up; 
and  so  they  did.  In  the  midst  of  the  raging  havoc, 
Webb,  under  instructions  from  Wadsworth,  now  in 
an  almost  frantic  state  of  mind,  tried  to  align 
some  troops  beyond  the  road  so  as  to  meet  Sor- 
rel, whose  fire  was  scourging  the  flanks  of  Carroll 
and  the  Green  Mountain  men,  through  whom  and 
around  whom  crowds  of  fugitives,  deaf  to  all  appeals 
to  rally,  were  forcing  their  way  to  the  rear.  But  the 
organizations,  so  severely  battered  in  the  morning, 
were  crumbling  so  fast,  and  the  tumult  was  so  high, 
that  Webb  saw  it  was  idle  to  expect  they  could  hold 
together  in  any  attempted  change  of  position ; he  there- 
fore returned  to  his  command,  and  quickly  brought 
the  Fifty-sixth  Massachusetts,  Griswold’s  regiment, 
alongside  the  road . F ortunately  his  N ineteenth  Maine, 
withdrawn  during  the  lull  to  replenish  its  ammuni- 
tion, had  been  wheeled  up  by  the  gallant  Connor  at 
the  first  ominous  volley  from  the  South.  They  had 
barely  braced  themselves  on  the  road  before  Carroll, 
and  then  the  old  Vermont  brigade,  had  to  go;  and 
now  Connor  and  Griswold  open  on  Sorrel,  checking 
him  up  roundly. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  271 


Wadsworth  undertook  to  wheel  the  remnants  of 
Rice’s  regiments  who  had  stood  by  him,  so  as  to  fire 
into  the  enemy  on  the  other  side  of  the  road.  In  try- 
ing to  make  this  movement  he  ran  squarely  onto  Per- 
rin’s Alabama  brigade,  of  Anderson’s  division,  which 
had  relieved  a part  of  Field’s,  who  rose  and  fired  a 
volley  with  fatal  effect,  breaking  Wadsworth’s  forma- 
tion, the  men  fleeing  in  wild  confusion.  In  this  Ala- 
bama brigade  was  the  Eighth  Regiment,  commanded 
that  morning  by  Hilary  A.  Herbert  who  lost  his  arm. 
This  gallant  man,  soldier,  member  of  Congress,  and 
distinguished  lawyer  was  Mr.  Cleveland’s  Secretary 
of  the  Navy. 

The  heroic  Wadsworth  did  not  or  could  not  check 
his  horse  till  within  twenty  odd  feet  of  the  Confeder- 
ate line.  Then,  turning,  a shot  struck  him  in  the  back 
of  the  head,  his  brain  spattering  the  coat  of  Earl  M. 
Rogers,  his  aide  at  his  side.  The  rein  of  Wadsworth’s 
horse,  after  the  general  fell,  caught  in  a snag,  and, 
Rogers’s  horse  having  been  killed  by  the  volley,  he 
vaulted  into  the  saddle,  and  escaped  through  the 
flying  balls.  Wadsworth  lies  unconscious  within  the 
enemy’s  lines;  his  heart,  that  has  always  beaten  so 
warmly  for  his  country,  is  still  beating,  but  hears  no 
response  now  from  the  generous,  manly,  truth-view- 
ing brain.  I believe  that  morning,  noon,  and  night 
the  bounteous  valley  of  the  Genesee,  with  its  rolling 
fields  and  tented  shocks  of  bearded  grain,  holds 
Wadsworth  in  dear  remembrance. 


272  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Everything  on  the  right  of  the  Nineteenth  Maine, 
Fifty-sixth  and  Thirty-seventh  Massachusetts  is 
gone,  and  they,  with  fragments  of  other  gallant  regi- 
ments, will  soon  have  to  go,  too,  for  Sorrel  comes  on 
again  with  a rush.  Griswold,  pistol  in  hand,  advances 
the  colors  to  meet  him,  and  is  killed  almost  instantly; 
Connor,  on  foot  and  in  the  road,  is  struck  and,  as  he 
falls,  Webb  calls  out,  “Connor,  are  you  hit?”  “Yes, 
I’ve  got  it  this  time.”  And  his  men  sling  him  in  a 
blanket  and  carry  him  to  the  rear.  Webb,  seeing  the 
day  is  lost,  tells  the  bitterly-tried  regiments  to  scat- 
ter, and  the  wreckage  begins  to  drift  sullenly  far  and 
wide,  some  in  Cutler’s  tracks,  and  some  toward  where 
Burnside  is  still  pottering;  but  naturally  the  main 
stream  is  back  on  both  sides  of  the  Plank  to  the 
Brock  Road,  and  there  it  straggles  across  it  hope- 
lessly toward  Chancellorsville.  Chaplain  Washiell, 
Fifty-seventh  Massachusetts,  says,  “I  well  remem- 
ber the  route  as  the  men  streamed  by  in  panic,  some 
of  them  breaking  their  guns  to  render  them  useless  in 
the  hands  of  the  rebels.  Nothing  could  stop  them 
until  they  came  to  the  cross-roads.” 

Where  now  is  the  morning’s  vision  of  victory  which 
Babcock  raised?  All  of  Hancock’s  right  wing,  to- 
gether with  Wadsworth’s  division  of  the  Fifth  Corps, 
Getty’s  of  the  Sixth,  and  one  brigade  of  the  Ninth  all 
smashed  to  pieces ! The  Plank  Road  is  Lee’s,  — and 
the  Brock,  the  strategic  key , is  almost  within  his  grasp 
too!  For  Longstreet,  followed  by  fresh  brigades  at 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  273 


double-quick,  is  coming  down  determined  to  clinch 
the  victory!  ! His  spirits  are  high,  and  Field’s  hand 
still  tingles  with  his  hearty  grasp  congratulating  him 
on  the  valor  of  his  troops.  Jenkins,  a sensitive,  enthu- 
siastic South  Carolinian,  “abreast  with  the  foremost 
in  battle  and  withal  an  humble  Christian,”  says  Long- 
street,  has  just  thrown  his  arms  around  Sorrel’s  shoul- 
der, — for  the  graceful  hero  has  ridden  to  meet  his 
chief, and  tell  him  the  road  is  clear,  — and  says,  “Sor- 
rel, it  was  splendid,  we  shall  smash  them  now.”  And 
then,  after  conferring  with  Kershaw,  who  had  already 
been  directed  to  follow  on  and  complete  Hancock’s 
overthrow,  Jenkins  rides  up  to  Longstreet’s  side  and 
with  overflowing  heart  says,  “I  am  happy.  I have  felt 
despair  of  the  cause  for  some  months,  but  am  relieved 
and  feel  assured  that  we  shall  put  the  enemy  back 
across  the  Rapidan  before  night.”  Put  the  enemy 
back  across  the  Rapidan ! That  means  the  Army  of 
the  Potomac  defeated  again,  and  Grant’s  prestige 
gone! ! 

Yes!  It  is  a great  moment  for  Jenkins  and  for  them 
all.  The  overcast  sky  that  has  been  so  dark  has  rifted 
open,  and  the  spire  of  the  Confederacy’s  steeple  daz- 
zles once  more  in  sunshine.  And  while  it  dazzles  and 
youth  comes  again  into  the  wan  cheek  of  the  Confed- 
eracy, gaunt  Slavery,  frenzied  with  delight  over  her 
prospective  reprieve,  snatches  a cap  from  a dead,  fair- 
browed  Confederate  soldier,  and  clapping  it  on  her 
coarse,  rusty,  gray-streaked  mane,  begins  to  dance  in 


274  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


hideous  glee  out  on  the  broom-grass  of  the  Widow 
Tapp’s  old  field. 

Dance  on,  repugnant  and  doomed  creature!  The  in- 
exorable eye  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Wilderness  is  on  you ! 
Dance  on!  For  in  a moment  Longstreet,  like  “Stone- 
wall,” will  be  struck  down  by  the  same  mysterious 
hand,  by  the  fire  of  his  own  men,  and  the  clock  in  the 
steeple  of  the  Confederacy  will  strike  twelve.  And,  as 
its  last  stroke  peals,  knelling  sadly  away,  a tall  spare 
figure,  — where  are  the  tints  in  her  cheeks  now?  — clad 
in  a costly  shroud,  and  holding  a dead  rose  in  her  hand, 
will  enter  the  door  of  History,  and  you,  you.  Slavery, 
will  be  dying,  gasping,  your  glazing  eyes  wide  open, 
staring  into  the  immensity  of  your  wrongs.  And  when 
your  last  weary  pulse  has  stopped,  and  your  pallid 
lips  are  apart  and  set  for  good  and  all,  no  friendly 
hand  will  be  there  to  close  them,  — oh,  the  face  you 
will  wear!  — the  eye  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Wilderness 
will  turn  from  you  with  a strange,  impenetrable 
gleam.  For  White  and  Black,  bond  and  free,  rich  and 
poor;  the  waving  trees,  the  leaning  fields  with  their 
nibbling  flocks,  the  mist-cradling  little  valleys  with 
their  grassy-banked  runs,  gleaming  and  murmuring  in 
the  moonlight;  the  tasseling  corn  and  the  patient, 
neglected,  blooming  weed  by  the  dusty  roadside,  — 
all,  all  are  the  children  of  the  same  great,  plastic,  lov- 
ing hand  which  Language,  Nature’s  first  and  deepest 
interpreter,  her  widely  listening  ear  catching  waves  of 
sound  from  the  immeasurable  depths  of  the  Firma- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  275 


ment,  has  reverently  called  God;  all,  all  through  him 
are  bound  by  common  ties. 

Hancock’s  first  warning  that  something  serious  had 
happened  was  the  sight  of  Frank’s  brigade,  and  the 
left  of  Mott’s  division,  tearing  through  to  the  Brock 
Road.  But  now  the  full  stream  of  wreckage  begins 
to  float  by  him  at  the  junction,  and  he  realizes  that 
disaster  has  come  to  his  entire  right  front.  “A  large 
part  of  the  whole  line  came  back,”  says  Lyman. 
“They  have  no  craven  terror,  but  for  the  moment 
will  not  fight,  nor  even  rally.  Drew  my  sword  and 
tried  to  stop  them,  but  with  small  success.” 

Colonel  Lyman,  a tall,  lean  man  with  a gracious, 
naturally  cordial  manner,  an  energetic  and  careful 
observer,  and  far  and  away  the  best  educated  officer 
connected  with  any  staff  in  the  army,  rode  in  and  re- 
ported the  state  of  affairs  to  Meade,  who  at  once, 
realizing  the  appalling  possibilities,  directed  Hunt  to 
place  batteries  on  the  ridge  east  of  the  run,  the  trains 
at  Chancellorsville  to  fall  back  to  the  river,  and  Sheri- 
dan to  draw  in  his  cavalry  to  protect  them.  “ Grant, 
who  wTas  smoking  stoically  under  a pine,”  says  Ly- 
man, “expressed  himself  annoyed  and  surprised  that 
Burnside  did  not  attack  — especially  as  Comstock 
was  with  him  as  engineer  and  staff  officer  to  show  him 
the  way.” 

Meanwhile  men  were  pouring  from  the  woods  like 
frightened  birds  from  a roost.  The  tide  across  the 
Brock  Road  was  at  its  height,  and  it  was  only  when 


276  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Hancock  appealed  to  Carroll,  who  had  halted  his 
brigade  on  arriving  at  the  road,  to  give  him  a point 
for  rallying,  that  he  and  his  staff  met  with  any  en- 
couragement. “Troops  to  the  right  and  left  of  the 
brigade,”  states  the  historian  of  the  Fourth  Ohio, 
“were  falling  rapidly  back  beyond  it.”  Carroll  (like  all 
the  Carrolls  of  Carrollton  that  I have  known,  he  had 
reddish  hair  and  his  classmates  at  West  Point  dubbed 
him  “Brick”)  rode  among  the  dispirited,  retreating 
groups,  shouting,  “For  God’s  sake,  don’t  leave  my 
men  to  fight  the  whole  rebel  army.  Stand  your 
ground!”  for  he  expected  Lee  to  strike  at  any  mo- 
ment. But  how  strange!  Why  do  his  fresh  troops 
not  come  on  and  burst  through,  while  Hancock,  Car- 
roll,  Lyman,  and  Rice,  and  scores  of  officers,  are  try- 
ing to  rally  the  men? 

An  hour  goes  by  and  Leasure,  who,  it  will  be  re- 
membered, had  been  sent  to  Gibbon  on  the  false 
alarm,  was  directed,  no  one  having  approached  the 
line  of  breastworks,  to  deploy  his  brigade,  his  right 
one  hundred  yards  from  the  road  (the  Brock),  and 
sweep  up  the  front,  which  he  did,  encountering  but  a 
single  detached  body  of  the  enemy.  What  does  the 
continuing  silence  mean?  Certainly  something  mys- 
terious has  happened.  Why  do  they  lose  the  one 
great  chance  to  complete  the  victory? 

A few  words  will  explain  it  all.  The  Sixty -first  Vir- 
ginia of  Mahone’s  brigade  — Mahone,  a small,  sal- 
low, keen-eyed,  and  fleshless  man  — had  approached 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  277 


within  forty  or  fifty  yards  of  the  road,  and,  through 
the  smoke  and  intervening  underbrush,  seeing  ob- 
jects emerging  on  it  from  the  bushes  on  the  opposite 
side,  mistook  them  for  enemies  and  let  drive  a scat- 
tering volley.  What  they  saw  was  a part  of  their  fel- 
low regiment,  the  Twelfth  Virginia,  who  with  the 
colors  had  crossed  the  road  in  pursuit  of  Wadsworth’s 
men  and  were  returning.  The  volley  intended  for 
them  cut  right  through  Longstreet,  Kershaw,  Jen- 
kins, Sorrel,  and  quite  a number  of  staff  and  order- 
lies, who  just  then  came  riding  by,  killing  instantly 
General  Jenkins,  Captain  Foley,  several  orderlies, 
and  two  of  the  Twelfth’s  color-guard.  But  of  all  the 
bullets  in  this  Wilderness  doomsday  volley  the  most 
fated  was  that  which  struck  Longstreet,  passing 
through  his  right  shoulder  and  throat,  and  almost 
lifting  him  from  his  saddle.  As  the  unfortunate  man 
was  reeling,  about  to  fall,  his  friends  took  him  down 
from  his  horse  and  propped  him  against  a pine  tree. 
Field,  who  was  close  by,  came  to  his  side,  and  Long- 
street, although  faint,  bleeding  profusely  and  blow- 
ing bloody  foam  from  his  mouth,  told  him  to  go 
straight  on;  and  then  despatched  Sorrel  with  this  mes- 
sage to  Lee:  “Urge  him  to  continue  the  movement  he 
[Longstreet]  was  engaged  on;  the  troops  being  all 
ready,  success  would  surely  follow,  and  Grant,  he 
firmly  believed,  be  driven  back  across  the  Rapidan.” 

They  carried  Longstreet  — thought  at  the  time  by 
all  to  be  mortally  wounded  — to  the  rear,  and  just 


278  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


as  they  were  putting  him  into  an  ambulance,  Major 
Stiles,  from  whom  I have  already  quoted,  came  up; 
and,  not  being  able  to  get  definite  information  as  to 
the  character  of  his  wound,  only  that  it  was  serious, 
— some  saying  he  was  dead,  — turned  and  rode  with 
one  of  the  staff  who  in  tears  accompanied  his  chief. 

“I  rode  up  to  the  ambulance  and  looked  in,”  says 
the  Major.  “They  had  taken  off  Longstreet’s  hat  and 
coat  and  boots.  I noticed  how  white  and  domelike  his 
great  forehead  looked,  how  spotless  white  his  socks 
and  his  fine  gauze  undervest  save  where  the  black-red 
gore  from  his  throat  and  shoulder  had  stained  it. 
While  I gazed  at  his  massive  frame,  lying  so  still  ex- 
cept when  it  rocked  inertly  with  the  lurch  of  the  vehi- 
cle, his  eyelids  frayed  apart  till  I could  see  a delicate 
line  of  blue  between  them,  and  then  he  very  quietly 
moved  his  unwounded  arm  and,  with  his  thumb  and 
two  fingers,  carefully  lifted  the  saturated  undershirt 
from  his  chest,  holding  it  up  a moment,  and  heaved  a 
deep  sigh.  ‘He  is  not  dead,’  I said  to  myself.” 

Longstreet  was  taken  to  the  home  of  his  friend, 
Erasmus  Taylor,  not  far  from  Orange  Court  House, 
and,  as  soon  as  he  could  stand  the  journey,  to  a hos- 
pital in  Lynchburg.  Although  not  fully  recovered 
from  his  wounds,  he  rejoined  the  army  about  the  last 
of  October,  after  it  had  taken  what  proved  to  be  its 
final  stand  before  Richmond. 

Field,  it  appears  from  one  of  his  letters,  when  Lee 
and  Longstreet,  on  their  way  to  the  front,  reached 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  279 


him,  joined  them  and  rode  beside  Lee.  Coming  to 
an  obstruction  of  logs  that  had  been  thrown  across  the 
road  by  their  troops  in  the  early  morning,  or  later  by 
ours,  Lee  stopped,  while  Field,  at  his  suggestion,  gave 
the  necessary  orders  for  the  removal  of  the  logs  so 
that  the  two  guns  which  were  following  them  could 
pass.  Meanwhile  Longstreet  with  his  party  rode  on, 
and  within  fifty  yards  met  with  the  fate  already 
chronicled.  Had  the  road  been  clear,  Lee  would  have 
been  with  them  and  received  the  fire  of  that  fateful 
volley.  But  fortunately,  not  there,  not  in  the  gloom 
of  the  Wilderness,  but  at  his  home  in  Lexington  and 
after  his  example  had  done  so  much  to  guide  the 
Southern  people  into  the  paths  of  resignation  and 
peace,  was  his  life  to  end. 

A moment’s  reflection  upon  the  situation  into  which 
the  wounding  of  Longstreet  plunged  Lee,  will,  I think, 
leave  the  impress  of  its  serious  gravity.  There  amid 
the  tangle  of  the  Wilderness,  just  at  the  hour  when  ad- 
vantage is  to  be  taken,  if  at  all,  of  our  defeat  and  utter 
disorder,  the  directing  head  on  whom  he  relies  for 
handling  his  exulting  men  to  clinch  the  victory  is 
stricken  down  under  shocking  circumstances,  almost 
in  his  immediate  presence,  and  the  responsibility  of 
leadership  is  thrown  on  him  in  a twinkling.  Put  your- 
self in  his  place  and  do  not  forget  its  distracting  cir- 
cumstances or  the  nature  of  his  surroundings,  — Hill 
too  sick  to  command  his  corps,  Longstreet  bleeding 
terribly  and  propped  up  against  a small  pine  tree 


280  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


waiting  for  an  ambulance,  bloody  foam  pouring  from 
his  mouth  when  he  tries  to  speak;  the  road  clogged 
with  prisoners,  squads  trying  to  regain  their  com- 
mands, dead  bodies,  limping,  wounded,  stretcher- 
bearers  with  their  pale-faced  and  appealing-eyed  bur- 
dens, Poague’s  guns  and  Jenkins’s  big  brigade  trying 
to  make  their  way  through  them,  Field’s  and  Ker- 
shaw’s divisions  advancing  in  two  or  more  lines  of 
battle,  at  right  angles  to  the  road,  Sorrel’s  flanking 
brigades  parallel  to  it,  all  in  more  or  less  disorder,  mov- 
ing by  flank  to  the  rear  for  the  time  being,  prepara- 
tory to  the  execution  of  Longstreet’s  order  for  a second 
attack  on  Hancock’s  left,  every  step  they  take  bring- 
ing them  and  the  advancing  organizations  nearer  utter 
confusion,  and  the  woods  enveloped  in  heavy,  obscur- 
ing smoke! 

Such  were  the  circumstances  into  which  Lee  was 
suddenly  thrown  at  that  hour  of  momentous  impor- 
tance. It  was  a chafing  trial,  one  that  took  him  out 
of  his  sphere  of  general  command  and  imposed  upon 
him  the  burden  of  details  which  ordinarily  falls  on 
subordinates  who,  as  a rule,  from  their  intimate  re- 
lations with  officers  and  troops,  can  more  readily  deal 
with  them  than  the  commander  himself.  No  doubt 
Longstreet’s  plans  were  told  to  Lee  by  Sorrel  and 
Field,  but,  whatsoever  they  were  and  whomsoever  he 
should  designate  to  carry  them  out,  obviously  nothing 
could  be  done  till  the  lines  were  untangled;  and  so  he 
directed  Field  to  reform  them,  with  a view  to  carry- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  281 

ing  the  Brock  Road,  on  which  his  heart  was  resolutely 
set. 

Field  at  once  began  his  difficult,  troublesome  task, 
and,  while  he  is  getting  his  troops  ready  for  the  or- 
deal, Lee  giving  him  verbal  orders  from  time  to  time, 
let  us  turn  to  the  operations  of  our  cavalry,  which, 
for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Federal  army, 
was  on  the  immediate  field  with  the  infantry  in  a well- 
organized  and  compact  body  and  under  an  impetu- 
ous leader. 

Sheridan,  in  his  relentlessness,  boisterous  jollity  in 
camp,  and  in  a certain  wild,  natural  intrepidity  and 
brilliancy  in  action,  came  nearer  the  old  type  of  the 
Middle  Ages  than  any  of  the  distinguished  officers  of 
our  day.  I need  not  give  details  as  to  his  appearance, 
for  his  portrait  is  very  familiar.  The  dominating  fea- 
tures of  his  square  fleshy  face  with  its  subdued  ruddi- 
ness were  prominent,  full,  black,  flashing  eyes,  which  at 
once  caught  your  attention  and  held  it.  His  forehead 
was  well  developed,  a splendid  front  for  his  round, 
cannon-ball  head.  Custer  insisted  on  introducing  me 
to  him  at  City  Point  after  his  Trevilian  Raid  — Sher- 
idan was  in  his  tent,  bareheaded,  and  writing,  when 
we  entered.  He  gave  me  his  usual  spontaneous,  cor- 
dial greeting  and  searching  look,  and  soon  thereafter 
was  off  for  the  Valley,  where  he  won  great  honors, 
breaking  the  clouds  that  were  hanging  so  heavily  over 
our  cause,  lifting  the  North  from  a state  of  despon- 
dency  and  doubt  into  one  of  confidence  in  its  final 


282  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


success,  and  giving  Grant  a relief  from  his  burden 
which  he  never  forgot.  But  my  impression  is  that, 
great  as  Sheridan  was,  he  never  could  have  perma- 
nently maintained  pleasant  official  relations  with  his 
fellow  commanders  on  any  field : he  had  to  be  in  chief 
control,  tolerating  no  restraint  from  equals.  Grant 
alone  he  bowed  to,  and  the  reason  Grant  admired  him 
and  allowed  him  free  rein  was  that  Sheridan  did  not 
hesitate  to  take  a bold  initiative. 

Sheridan  early  in  the  morning  of  the  6th  put  the 
cavalry  in  motion,  and  Custer’s  successful  fight  with 
Rosser  of  Fitz  Lee’s  division  in  the  forenoon  on  Han- 
cock’s left  has  already  been  mentioned.  I wish  my 
readers  could  have  known  Custer,  felt  the  grasp  of  his 
hand,  seen  his  warm  smile,  and  heard  his  boyish  laugh. 
And  then,  too,  if  they  could  have  seen  him  lead  a 
charge ! his  men  following  him  rollickingly  with  their 
long  red  neckties  (they  wore  them  because  it  was  a 
part  of  his  fantastic  dress)  and  as  reckless  of  their  lives 
as  he  himself  of  his  own.  Really,  it  seemed  at  times  as 
if  the  horses  caught  his  spirit  and  joined  in  the  charge 
with  glee,  the  band  playing  and  the  bugles  sounding. 
There  never  was  but  one  Custer  in  this  world,  and  at 
West  Point  how  many  hours  I whiled  idly  away  with 
him  which  both  of  us  ought  to  have  given  to  our 
studies.  But  what  were  the  attractions  of  Mechanics, 
Optics,  or  Tactics,  Strategy  or  Ordnance,  to  those  of 
the  subjects  we  talked  about:  our  life  in  Ohio,  its 
coon-hunts,  fox-chases,  fishing-holes,  muskrat  and 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  283 


partridge-traps,  — in  fact,  about  all  that  stream  of 
persons  and  little  events  at  home  which,  when  a boy 
is  far  away  from  it  for  the  first  time,  come  flowing 
back  so  dearly. 

It  was  his  like,  I have  often  thought,  which  in- 
spired that  lovable  man  and  soldier,  “Dick”  Steele, 
to  say  in  the  “ Spectator,”  when  descanting  in  his  own 
sweet  way  on  the  conversation  and  characters  of 
military  men,  “But  the  fine  gentleman  in  that  band 
of  men  is  such  a one  as  I have  now  in  my  eye,  who  is 
foremost  in  all  danger  to  which  he  is  ordered.  His  of- 
ficers are  his  friends  and  companions,  as  they  are  men 
of  honour  and  gentlemen;  the  private  men  are  his 
brethren,  as  they  are  of  his  species.  He  is  beloved  of 
all  that  behold  him.  Go  on,  brave  man,  immortal 
glory  is  thy  fortune,  and  immortal  happiness  thy 
reward.” 

Reader,  let  me  confide ! there  are  two  authors  in  the 
next  world  whom  I have  a real  longing  to  see:  one  is 
Steele, — poor  fellow,  so  often  in  his  cups,  — and  the 
other,  he  who  wrote  the  Gospel  of  Saint  John  and  saw 
the  Tree  of  Life. 

Well,  Custer,  after  throwing  his  old  West  Point  - 
friends,  Young  and  Rosser,  back  from  the  Brock  Road 
and  Hancock’s  left,  made  connection  with  the  ever- 
trusted  Gregg,  then  at  Todd’s  Tavern  confronting 
Stuart,  who  studiously  kept  his  force  under  cover, 
protected  everywhere  by  hastily  constructed  de- 
fenses. That  Stuart  at  this  time  had  some  plan' 


284  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


in  hand  is  revealed  by  a despatch  to  him  from  Lee’s 
chief  of  staff,  dated  10  a.  m.,  to  the  effect  that  Lee 
directed  him  (Marshall)  to  say  that  he  approved  of 
Stuart’s  designs  and  wished  him  success.  Probably 
what  he  had  in  mind  was  one  of  his  usual  startling 
raids  around  our  flanks;  but  whatever  it  was,  Gregg 
prevented  him  from  undertaking  it  by  holding  him 
fast  to  his  lines,  thereby  retaining  the  cross-roads  at 
the  Tavern  and  securing  the  left  of  the  field. 

At  one  o’clock  Humphreys  tells  Sheridan  that 
Hancock’s  flank  had  been  turned,  and  that  Meade 
thought  he  had  better  draw  in  his  cavalry  so  as  to  se- 
cure the  protection  of  the  trains.  Accordingly  Sheri- 
dan drew  in  from  Todd’s  Tavern  and  the  Brock  Road. 
Wilson  at  Piney  Branch  Church  was  brought  back 
to  Chancellorsville,  and  the  enemy  by  dark  pushed 
forward  almost  to  the  Furnaces,  about  halfway  be- 
tween Todd’s  Tavern  and  Sheridan’s  headquarters  at 
Chancellorsville.  Thus  by  the  time  Field  was  ready, 
the  Brock  Road  beyond  Hancock’s  left,  covering 
ground  at  once  dangerous  to  the  army  if  it  stood  still, 
and  absolutely  essential  if  it  tried  to  go  ahead,  was 
abandoned.  In  regaining  it  the  next  day,  which  had 
to  be  done  to  carry  out  Grant’s  onward,  offensive 
movement,  Sheridan  had  to  do  some  hard  fighting, 
and  met  with  very  severe  losses,  the  responsibility 
for  which  became  the  occasion  of  an  acrimonious  dis- 
pute that  broke  out  between  his  own  friends  and  the 
friends  of  Meade  as  soon  as  Sheridan’s  autobiography 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  285 


appeared.  Death  had  overtaken  Meade  some  years 
before  the  book  was  published.  Perhaps  he  was 
misled  by  Sheridan’s  despatch  as  to  positions  of  the 
cavalry,  but  I have  never  felt  that  Meade’s  friends 
were  quite  fair  to  Sheridan  in  blaming  him  for  falling 
back,  since  the  plain  purport  of  the  orders,  as  I inter- 
pret them,  was  for  him  to  take  no  responsibilities  that 
would  endanger  the  safety  of  the  trains  by  being  too 
far  extended.  To  be  sure,  it  so  happened  that  the 
trains  were  secure;  Lee’s  great  chance,  that  hovered 
for  a moment  like  a black  thunder-cloud  over  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac,  passed  by;  and  if  Sheridan  had 
left  Gregg  at  Todd’s  Tavern,  which,  as  we  see  now,  he 
might  have  done,  the  door  to  Spotsylvania  would  in 
all  probability  have  been  wide  open  for  Warren  the 
following  night.  As  it  was,  Warren  found  it  shut. 

The  trains  at  Chancellorsville  as  soon  as  Hancock’s 
disaster  reached  them  took  time  by  the  forelock  and 
started  for  Ely’s  Ford.  And,  in  explanation  of  their 
movement,  allow  me  to  say  that  no  one  scents  danger 
so  quickly  as  quartermasters  in  charge  of  trains. 
While  the  commander  is  thinking  how  he  can  get 
ahead  through  danger,  they  are  busy  thinking  how 
they  can  get  back  out  of  danger.  For,  as  a rule,  quar- 
termasters hear  very  little  of  the  good,  but  all  of  the 
bad  news  from  the  slightly  wounded  and  the  skulkers 
who,  sooner  or  later,  drift  back  to  the  trains,  the  lat- 
ter invariably  telling  the  same  sad,  unblushing  story, 
that  their  commands  are  literally  cut  to  pieces. 


280  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


A real  adept  skulker  or  coffee-boiler  is  a most  inter- 
esting specimen;  and  how  well  I remember  the  cool- 
ness with  which  he  and  his  companion  (for  they  go  in 
pairs)  would  rise  from  their  little  fires  on  being  dis- 
covered and  ask  most  innocently,  “Lieutenant,  can 

you  tell  me  where  the regiment  is?”  And  the 

answer,  I am  sorry  to  say,  was,  too  often,  “Yes,  right 
up  there  at  the  front,  you  damned  rascal,  as  you  well 
know!”  Of  course,  they  would  make  a show  of  mov- 
ing, but  they  were  back  at  their  little  fire  as  soon  as 
you  were  out  of  sight. 

Not  only  the  skulkers  but  many  a good  soldier 
whose  heart  was  gone,  made  his  way  to  the  trains  at 
Chancell orsville  after  Hancock’s  repulse;  and  the 
quartermasters  had  good  reason  to  take  their  usual 
initiative  toward  safety,  northward  in  this  case,  to 
Ely’s  Ford,  for  there  was  presageful  honesty  in  the 
face  and  story  of  more  than  one  who  came  back.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  they  came  in  shoals.  Even  the  ammu- 
nition-train of  the  Second  Corps,  affected  by  the  con- 
tagious panic,  had  joined  the  swarm  of  fugitives.  At 
about  six  o’clock  Sheridan,  impressed  by  the  state 
of  affairs,  told  Humphreys  that  unless  the  trains 
were  ordered  to  cross  the  river,  the  road  would  be 
blocked  and  it  would  be  impossible  for  troops  to  get 
to  the  ford.  What  would  have  happened  that  after- 
noon among  the  trains  had  Longstreet  not  been 
wounded  and  had  his  troops  broken  through? 

Meanwhile  Field,  under  the  immediate  eye  of  Lee, 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  287 


was  getting  his  men  ready  to  renew  the  contest. 
Knowing  the  situation  and  the  country  as  we  do,  it  is 
not  surprising  that  there  was  delay,  or  to  learn  from 
the  report  of  the  First  South  Carolina,  one  of  the  regi- 
ments which  planted  their  colors  on  Hancock’s  first 
line  of  works,  that  there  was  much  wearisome  march- 
ing and  counter-marching  before  they  all  got  into 
place  for  the  attack.  Kershaw,  by  Lee’s  direct  orders, 
was,  with  three  of  his  brigades  (Humphreys’s,  Bryan’s, 
and  Henagan’s),  moved  to  the  south,  till  his  right 
rested  on  the  unfinished  railway.  His  other  brigade 
(Wofford’s)  was  detached  to  help  Perry  stop  Burnside, 
who  had  finally  gotten  under  headway.  The  only  good, 
so  far  as  I can  see,  that  Burnside  did  that  day  was  to 
detach  these  two  brigades  from  Lee  at  a critical  time. 

Field  put  what  were  left  of  the  Texans,  G.  S.  An- 
derson’s and  Jenkins’s  brigade  of  South  Carolinians 
(commanded  by  Bratton  since  Jenkins’s  sudden 
death),  in  several  lines  of  battle  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Plank  Road,  where  the  main  assault  was  to  be 
given;  and  along  with  them  was  R.  H.  Anderson’s 
fresh  division  of  four  brigades. 

By  this  time  three  or  four  precious  hours  had  flown 
by;  for  it  was  almost  four  o’clock  when  the  line  was  re- 
ported ready  to  move.  This  delay  — I have  no  doubt 
that  on  its  account  Lee  did  not  promote  Field  to  the 
command  of  his  corps  in  Longstreet’s  place  — but, 
however  that  may  be,  the  delay  must  have  been 
keenly  disappointing  and  vexing  to  Lee.  For  he  knew 


288  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


well  what  advantage  Hancock  was  making  of  the 
respite,  that  every  minute  order  was  taking  the  place 
of  disorder,  confidence  of  panic,  and  that  breastworks 
were  growing  higher  and  more  formidable. 

But  now  these  seasoned  veterans  of  Antietam, 
Fredericksburg,  Malvern  Hill,  and  Chancellorsville, 
they  who  broke  through  Sickles  at  Gettysburg  and 
Rosecrans  at  Chickamauga,  are  ready  for  another 
trial  — their  last  of  the  kind  as  it  turned  out,  for, 
with  but  one  or  two  feeble  exceptions  Lee  never 
tried  another  such  deliberate  assault.  Had  he  had 
as  many  men  as  Grant,  however,  I have  but  little 
doubt  that  his  fighting  spirit  would  have  inflamed 
him  to  repeat  and  re-repeat  Malvern  Hill  and  Pick- 
ett’s charge.  But  this  time  Pickett  was  not  with 
him  — his  immortalized  division  was  at  Petersburg 
looking  after  Butler;  nor  could  Alexander  bring  up 
his  artillery,  as  on  the  famous  day  at  Gettysburg, 
to  shake  the  lines  along  the  Brock  Road. 

At  last  Field  got  them  arrayed,  and  brightened 
here  and  there  by  blooming  dogwoods  and  closely 
overhung  by  innumerable  throngs  of  spring-green 
leaves,  leaves  on  slender  branches  that  gently  brush 
faces  and  colors  as  the  soft  breezes  sigh  by,  is  the 
long  line  of  gray,  speckled  at  short  intervals  by  the 
scarlet  of  torn  banners.  Little  did  those  men  dream 
as  they  stood  there  that  Fate  only  a few  hours  before 
had  for  good  and  all  sealed  the  doom  of  the  Con- 
federacy, that  their  cause  was  lost,  and  that  the  sac- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  289 


rifices  they  were  about  to  be  called  on  to  make  would 
be  a waste. 

On  my  visit  to  the  field  last  May,  I sat  a while  on  a 
knoll  not  far  from  where  their  left  lay,  — the  spot  is 
quite  open  and  gloried  with  more  of  the  stateliness  of 
an  oak  forest  than  any  point  in  the  Wilderness,  — and 
as  my  mind  dwelt  on  those  battle  lines  waiting  for  the 
command,  “Forward,”  that  would  blot  out  this  world 
for  so  many  of  them,  I felt  one  after  another  the  ten- 
der throbs  of  those  human  ties  which  stretch  back  to 
the  cradle  and  the  hearth.  When,  on  the  point  of 
yielding  to  their  pathos,  at  the  behest  of  Imagination, 
if  not  of  Truth  itself,  the  background  of  my  medita- 
tions became  a vast,  murky-lighted  expanse,  and  from 
a break  in  its  sombre  depths  a Figure  — perchance  it 
was  Destiny  — beckoned  me  to  come  and  look  down 
on  the  struggle-to-the-death.  On  gaining  the  edge 
of  the  rift  three  spirits  were  standing  there.  The 
Republic,  with  an  anxious  look,  her  eyes  fixed  on  the 
combatants;  below  at  her  left  was  one  with  a radiant, 
glowing  face;  and  standing  apart,  with  swimming 
averted  eyes,  was  another  of  sweet  gentleness.  I 
asked  Imagination  who  these  two  were.  She  an- 
swered: “The  radiant  one  is  the  Future,  the  other 
with  the  heavenly  countenance  is  Good-will.”  And 
while  I gazed,  the  war  ended  and  at  once  Good-will 
knocked  at  the  doors  of  conqueror  and  conquered, 
and  at  last,  under  her  kindly  loving  pleading,  they 
joined  their  hands,  and  lo!  she  won  for  civilization, 
democracy  and  religion  their  greatest  modern  triumph. 


XI 


Beside  throwing  up  near  the  junction  two  or  three 
additional  lines,  Hancock  had  slashed  a border  of  the 
woods  in  their  immediate  front.  His  troops  were 
posted  from  right  to  left  as  follows,  their  order  show- 
ing the  haste  with  which  they  were  assigned  to  posi- 
tion. First  came  Kitching’s  heavy  artillery  that  the 
Alabama  brigade  threw  back  from  the  slopes  of  the 
Widow  Tapp  field  as  they  came  forward  to  help 
Gregg  and  Benning,  its  right  opposite  the  knoll  here-. 
tofore  mentioned;  then  Eustis’s  brigade  of  the  Sixth 
Corps;  then,  in  three  fines  of  battle,  two  brigades 
of  Robinson’s  division  of  the  Fifth;  then  Owen’s 
brigade  of  the  Second ; then  Wheaton  and  L.  A.  Grant 
of  the  Sixth,  their  left  resting  on  the  Plank  Road  at 
the  junction  which  the  day  before  they  had  saved. 
Immediately  in  rear  of  them  lay  Carroll  of  the  Sec- 
ond with  his  fearless  regiments;  and  behind  Carroll, 
in  a third  line,  stood  Rice  of  the  Fifth;  the  remnants 
of  his  brigade  all  waiting  for  the  attack  that  they 
knew  was  coming.  In  the  road  at  the  junction  was  a 
section  of  Dow’s  Maine  battery  under  Lieutenant 
W.  H.  Rogers.  Then  came  Birney  in  three  lines  of 
battle,  then  Mott  in  two  lines,  and  on  his  left  Smyth 
with  his  gallant  Irish,  flying  with  the  Stars  and 
Stripes  the  golden  Harp  of  Erin  on  a green  field. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  291 

Webb  was  next  to  Smyth,  then  Barlow.  The  other 
four  guns  of  Dow’s  battery  were  in  an  opening  behind 
the  left  of  Mott’s  second  line,  and  next  to  him  Edgell’s 
six  guns  of  the  First  New  Hampshire. 

At  3.15,  all  being  quiet,  kind-hearted  Lyman  asked 
permission  of  Hancock  to  go  back  to  the  hospital  and 
look  after  his  boyhood  friend,  “little”  Abbott.  The 
gallant  fellow  was  then  breathing  his  last,  and  died 
about  four. 

A half-hour  later  Field’s  doomed  line  came  on. 
The  point  which  he  had  chosen  to  drive  it  through 
was  Mott’s  and  Birney’s  front,  just  to  the  left  of  the 
junction.  It  was  a lucky  choice,  for  a part  of  the 
former’s  division  had  behaved  badly  on  both  days, 
its  conduct  in  marked  contrast  with  that  when 
Kearney  and  Hooker  used  to  lead  it. 

Surmising  from  the  skirmish-line  reports  that  the 
main  assault  would  be  south  of  the  Plank  Road,  a 
bugler  was  stationed  on  Mott’s  breastworks,  with 
orders  to  sound  the  recall  for  the  skirmishers  at  the 
enemy’s  first  appearance.  Soon  his  notes  rang  out, 
and  Dow’s  and  Edgell’s  guns  opened  at  once  with 
spherical  case.  But  on  they  came,  marching  abreast 
to  within  one  hundred  paces  of  the  Brock  Road. 
There,  confronted  by  the  slashing,  they  halted,  and 
for  a half-hour  poured  an  uninterrupted  fire  of  mus- 
ketry across  the  works,  our  lines  replying  with  deadly 
effect.  The  incessant  roar  of  these  crashing  volleys, 
and  the  thunder  of  the  guns  as  they  played  rapidly. 


292  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


struck  war’s  last  full  diapason  on  the  Plank  Road  in 
the  Wilderness. 

Meantime  fire,  that  had  crept  through  the  woods 
from  the  battle-ground  of  the  forenoon,  had  reached 
the  bottom  logs  of  the  breastworks  in  some  places 
and  was  smoking  faintly,  waiting  for  a breath  of 
wind  to  mount  and  wrap  them  in  flames.  And  now, 
while  the  battle  was  raging  to  its  culmination,  on 
came  a fanning  breeze,  and  up  leaped  the  flames.  The 
breastworks  along  Mott’s  and  Birney’s  front  soon 
became  a blazing  mass.  The  heat  grew  almost  intol- 
erable, and  the  wind  rising  — what  desolated  South- 
ern home  had  it  passed ! — now  lashed  the  flames 
and  hot  blinding  smoke  down  into  the  faces  of  the 
men,  driving  them,  here  and  there,  from  the  para- 
pets. 

Soon  one  of  Mott’s  brigades  began  to  waver  and 
then  broke,  retiring  in  disorder  toward  Chancellors- 
ville.  At  its  abandonment  of  the  works,  South  Caro- 
linian and  Texan  color-bearers  rushed  from  the 
woods,  followed  by  the  men,  and  planted  their  flags 
on  the  burning  parapets,  and  through  the  flame  over 
went  the  desperate  troops.  At  this  perilous  sight 
Rogers  at  the  junction  began  to  pour  double  canister 
into  them,  and  Dow  and  Edgell  crossed  his  fire  with 
case  and  like  charges  of  canister.  The  former  must 
have  had  his  eye  on  a particular  battle-flag,  for  he 
speaks  in  his  report  of  shooting  one  down  five  times. 
Meanwhile  his  own  breastworks  get  on  fire,  and  the 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  293 


extra  charges  that  the  gunners  have  brought  up  from 
the  limbers  explode,  burning  some  of  the  cannoneers 
severely.  Still  he  keeps  on,  his  guns  belching  canis- 
ter. 

As  soon  as  the  break  was  made  through  Mott  and 
his  own  left,  Birney  in  great  haste  rode  to  Robinson, 
his  next  division  commander  on  his  right,  telling  him 
what  had  happened,  that  Hancock  was  cut  off,  and 
suggesting  that  proper  disposition  be  made  to  receive 
an  attack  on  Robinson’s  left  and  rear.  Lyman,  who 
when  the  assault  began  had  gone  to  notify  Meade, 
was  met  on  his  return  by  one  of  Hancock’s  aides,  who 
told  him  that  the  enemy  had  broken  through,  ane1 
that  there  was  no  communication  with  the  left  wing. 
He  rode  on,  however,  and  found  Birney  at  the 
junction,  who  confirmed  the  aide’s  story.  It  is  said 
that  when  Birney’s  aide  came  to  Grant  and  reported 
that  the  enemy  had  broken  the  lines,  he  and  Meade 
were  sitting  together  at  the  root  of  a tree,  and  Grant, 
after  hearing  the  story,  did  not  stir,  but  looking  up 
said  in  his  usual  low,  softly  vibrating  voice,  “I  don’t 
believe  it.” 

Meanwhile  Birney  had  called  on  Rice,  and  Han- 
cock on  Carroll;  the  batteries  ceased  firing,  and  to- 
gether those  two  fearless  commanders  with  their 
iron-hearted  brigades  dashed  with  bayonets  fixed  at 
the  enemy  and  soon  hurled  them  from  the  works, 
leaving  colors,  prisoners,  and  over  fifty  dead  and 
many  wounded  within  the  burning  entrenchments. 


294  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


To  the  south  in  front  of  our  lines  for  four  or  five  hun- 
dred yards  from  the  junction,  clear  to  where  Webb 
was  posted,  Confederate  dead  and  helpless  wounded 
dotted  the  ground.  They  had  charged  with  great 
valor. 

I have  always  thought  that  if  Grant  had  been  with 
Hancock  at  the  time  of  this  repulse,  he  would  have 
ordered  an  immediate  advance.  For  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  never  had  another  commander  who  was  so 
quick  as  Grant  to  deliver  a counter-blow. 

Field’s  losses  were  heavy,  he  had  signally  failed  to 
carry  the  works,  and  soon  drew  his  shattered  lines 
back  almost  to  the  Widow  Tapp  field,  and  at  about 
sundown  reformed  them  perpendicular  to  the  Plank 
Road,  their  left  resting  on  it,  and  bivouacked  about 
where  Gregg  first  struck  Wadsworth. 

That  night  the  Texans  who  had  suffered  so  severely 
collected  the  dead  they  could  find,  dug  a trench  near 
the  road,  and  buried  them.  And  when  the  last  shovel- 
ful of  reddish  clay  and  dead  leaves  was  thrown,  they 
tacked  a board  onto  an  oak  whose  branches  overhung 
the  shallow  trench,  bearing  the  inscription,  “Texas 
dead,  May  6th,  1864.”  Field  said  in  a letter  to  his 
friend,  Gen.  E.  P.  Alexander,  that  a single  first  lieu- 
tenant was  all  that  was  left  of  one  of  the  companies. 

W.  R.  Ramsey,  of  Morton,  Pa.,  who  was  in  Wads- 
worth’s front  when  the  Texans  charged,  and  was 
wounded  so  he  could  not  move,  says  that  some  South 
Carolina  men  brought  blankets  and  covered  him  that 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  295 


night  besides  making  and  bringing  coffee  to  him,  and 
that  one  of  their  little  drummer  boys  staid  with  him 
till  his  leg  was  amputated.  Who  can  doubt  that  the 
Good  Samaritan  reached  a hand  when  the  little 
drummer  boy  entered  Heaven’s  gates ! 

As  this  is  the  end  of  the  fighting  of  these  Confed- 
erate troops  in  the  Wilderness,  here  is  how  General 
Perry,  who  commanded  one  of  the  brigades,  closes  his 
reminiscences  of  the  battle:  “Many  a day  of  toil  and 
night  of  watching,  many  a weary  march  and  tempest 
of  fire,  still  await  these  grim  and  ragged  veterans;  but 
they  have  taught  the  world  a lesson  that  will  not  soon 
be  forgotten,  and  have  lighted  up  the  gloom  of  that 
dark  forest  with  a radiance  that  will  abide  so  long  as 
heroism  awakens  a glow  of  admiration  in  the  hearts 
of  men.”  True,  well  and  beautifully  said. 

And  now  for  the  narration  of  some  personal  expe- 
riences, not  because  they  were  of  any  great  conse- 
quence in  themselves,  but  one  of  them  at  least,  as  it 
so  happened,  had  a part  in  the  history  of  the  day. 
During  the  forenoon  — from  official  dates  of  various 
orders  I know  it  must  have  been  not  later  than  ten; 
at  any  rate  it  was  after  my  return  from  trying  to  find 
Wadsworth — Warren,  who  was  standing  in  the  door- 
yard  of  the  Lacy  house,  saw  a guard  that  had  charge 
of  a small  squad  of  Confederates  just  in  from  the 
front  halt  them  near  the  bank  of  the  run.  He  told  me 
to  go  down  and  find  out  who  they  were.  Noticing  a 
young  officer  among  them,  I asked  him  what  regiment 


296  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


he  belonged  to.  He  and  his  companions  were  tired 
and  not  in  good  spirits  over  their  hard  luck,  with  its 
long  period  of  confinement  before  them,  for  Grant  had 
suspended  the  exchange  of  prisoners;  and  he  answered 
me  with  sullen  defiance  in  look  and  tones,  “Fifteenth 
Alabama ! ” which,  if  I remember  right,  was  in  Law’s 
brigade  of  Longstreet’s  corps.  Not  being  very  skillful 
at  worming  valuable  intelligence  out  of  prisoners,  I 
was  getting  very  little  from  them,  when  a mounted 
orderly  came  to  me  from  my  immediate  commander, 
the  Chief  of  Ordnance,  Captain  Edie,  to  report  at 
Meade’s  headquarters.  On  reaching  there,  Edie  told 
me  I was  to  start  at  once  for  Rappahannock  Station 
with  despatches  to  Washington  for  an  additional  sup- 
ply of  infantry  ammunition  to  be  sent  out  with  all 
haste.  The  wagons  going  to  meet  the  train  for  the 
ammunition  and  other  supplies  were  to  be  loaded 
with  wounded,  who  would  be  transferred  to  the  cars, 
and  thence  to  the  hospitals  in  Alexandria  and  Wash- 
ington. 

How  the  notion  got  abroad  that  the  supply  of  am- 
munition was  exhausted  I cannot  explain,  except  by 
the  heavy  firing.  As  a matter  of  fact,  we  had  an  abun- 
dance; but,  somehow  or  other,  Humphreys  or  Meade 
was  made  to  think  we  were  running  short,  and,  as 
early  as  seven  o’clock,  a circular  was  issued  to  all 
corps  commanders : — 

The  question  of  ammunition  is  an  important  one. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  297 


The  Major-General  commanding  directs  that  every 
effort  be  made  to  economize  the  ammunition,  and  the 
ammunition  of  the  killed  and  wounded  be  collected 
and  distributed  to  the  men.  Use  the  bayonet  where 
possible. 

By  command  of  Major-Gen’l  Meade. 

S.  Williams, 
Adjutant-General. 

Humphreys  in  a despatch  to  Warren  said,  “Spare 
ammunition  and  use  the  bayonet.” 

At  nine  o’clock,  corps  commanders  were  told  to 
empty  one-half  of  the  ammunition-wagons  and  issue 
their  contents  to  the  troops  without  delay,  sending 
the  empty  wagons  to  report  to  Ingalls  at  Meade’s 
headquarters. 

I asked  Edie  what  escort  I was  to  have.  He  an- 
swered, “A  sergeant  and  four  or  five  men.”  I ex- 
claimed, “A  sergeant  and  four  or  five  men!  What 
would  I amount  to  with  that  sort  of  escort  against 
Mosby?” 

For  those  who  have  been  born  since  the  war,  let  me 
say  that  Mosby  was  a very  daring  officer  operating 
between  the  Rapidan  and  Potomac,  his  haunt  the 
eastern  base  of  the  Blue  Ridge.  I think  every  staff  of- 
ficer stood  in  dread  of  encountering  him  anywhere 
outside  the  lines,  — at  least  I know  I did,  — from 
reports  of  atrocities,  perhaps  more  or  less  exaggerated, 
committed  by  his  men.  I must  have  worn  a most 


298  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


indignant  expression,  possibly  due  to  just  having  es- 
caped capture,  for  Edie  roared  with  laughter.  But  I 
declared  that  it  was  no  laughing  matter,  that  I had  to 
have  more  men  than  that,  and  I got  them,  for  they 
sent  a squadron  of  the  Fifth  New  York  Cavalry,  in 
command  of  Lieutenant  W.  B.  Cary,  now  the  Rever- 
end Mr.  Cary  of  Windsor,  Connecticut,  and  may  this 
day  and  every  day  on  to  the  end  be  a pleasant  one 
for  him ! And  besides,  they  supplied  me  with  a fresh 
horse,  a spirited  young  black  with  a narrow  white 
stripe  on  his  nose. 

When  I was  ready  to  start,  I heard  General  Grant 
ask  some  one  near  him,  “Where  is  the  officer  that  is 
going  back  with  despatches?”  Those  that  I had  re- 
ceived were  from  Meade’s  Adjutant-General.  I was 
taken  up  to  him  by  some  one  of  his  staff,  possibly 
Porter  or  Babcock.  Grant  at  once  sat  down  with  his 
back  against  a small  pine  tree,  and  wrote  a despatch 
directed  to  Halleck. 

While  he  was  writing,  E.  B.  Washburne,  a promi- 
nent member  of  Congress,  who,  as  a fellow  townsman 
of  Grant’s,  having  opened  the  door  for  his  career,  had 
come  down  to  see  him  start  the  great  campaign  (on 
account  of  his  long- tailed  black  coat  and  silk  hat  the 
men  said  that  he  was  an  undertaker  that  Grant  had 
brought  along  to  bury  “Jeff”  Davis),  gave  me  a let- 
ter with  a Congressman’s  frank,  to  be  mailed  to  his 
family.  A number  of  the  staff  gave  me  letters  also.  A 
telegraph  operator  was  directed  to  go  with  me,  and 


, THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  299 


my  final  instructions  were  that,  if  I found  communi- 
cation broken  at  Rappahannock,  I was  to  go  to  Ma- 
nassas, or  the  nearest  station  where  the  operator 
could  find  an  open  circuit. 

I set  out  with  my  despatches,  several  correspon- 
dents joining  me,  and  I remember  that  I was  not  half 
as  polite  to  them  as  I should  have  been;  but  in  those 
days  a regular  army  officer  who  courted  a newspaper 
man  lost  caste  with  his  fellows.  Soon  after  crossing 
the  Rapidan  we  met  a battalion  of  a New  Jersey 
cavalry  regiment  that  had  been  scouting  up  the  river. 
It  was  a newly  organized  regiment,  one  of  Burnside’s, 
and  on  account  of  its  gaudy  uniforms  was  called  by 
all  the  old  cavalrymen  “Butterflies,”  and  most  un- 
mercifully jibed  by  them.  But  the  “Butterfly”  soon 
rose  to  the  occasion,  and  paid  the  old  veterans  in  coin 
as  good  as  their  own.  As  we  were  riding  by  them,  one 
of  our  men  inquired  if  they  had  seen  anything  of 
Mosby,  and,  on  being  answered  in  the  negative,  ob- 
served sarcastically  in  the  hearing  of  the  “Butterfly,” 
“It’s  mighty  lucky  for  Mosby,”  and  rode  on  with  the 
grin  of  a Cheshire  cat. 

We  followed  the  road  to  Sheppard’s  Grove  and  then 
across  country  to  Stone’s  or  Paoli  Mills  on  Mountain 
Run.  From  there  we  made  our  way  to  Providence 
Church  on  the  Norman’s  Ford  Road,  passing  over  a 
part  of  the  field  where  the  lamented  Pelham  was  killed. 
The  old  church,  with  some  of  its  windows  broken, 
stood  on  a ridge;  desolated  fields  lay  around  it.  When 


300  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


we  reached  it  the  sun  had  set,  and  I remember  how 
red  was  its  outspread  fan  in  the  low  western  sky. 
Rappahannock  Station  was  in  sight,  and  over  the 
works  which  occupied  the  knolls  on  the  north  side 
of  the  river,  which  the  Sixth  Corps  had  carried  one 
night  by  assault  after  twilight  had  fallen,  the  preced- 
ing autumn,  to  my  surprise  a flag  was  flying.  I had 
supposed  that  the  post  had  been  abandoned,  but 
for  some  reason  or  other  Burnside  had  left  a regiment 
there.  Our  approach  being  observed,  the  pickets  were 
doubled,  for  they  took  us  for  some  of  the  enemy’s 
cavalry. 

I went  at  once,  after  seeing  the  officer  in  command, 
to  the  little  one-story  rough-boarded  house  that  had 
served  as  the  railroad  station;  and,  while  the  operator 
was  attaching  his  instrument,  which  he  carried 
strapped  to  his  saddle,  I opened  Grant’s  despatch  and 
read  it.  In  view  of  its  being  his  first  from  the  Wilder- 
ness, I will  give  it  entire : — 

Wilderness  Tavern, 

May  6,  1864  — 11.30  a.  m. 

Major-General  Halleck, 

Washington,  D.  C. 

We  have  been  engaged  with  the  enemy  in  full  force 
since  early  yesterday.  So  far  there  is  no  decisive 
result,  but  I think  all  things  are  progressing  favor- 
ably. Our  loss  to  this  time  I do  not  think  exceeds 
8000,  of  whom  a large  proportion  are  slightly 
wounded.  Brigadier-General  Hays  was  killed  yes- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  301 

i 

terday,  and  Generals  Getty  and  Bartlett  wounded. 
We  have  taken  about  1400  prisoners.  Longstreet’s, 
A.  P.  Hill’s,  and  Ewell’s  corps  are  all  represented 
among  the  prisoners  taken. 

U.  S.  Grant, 
Lieutenant-General. 

Meanwhile  the  operator’s  instrument  had  clicked 
and  clicked,  but  could  get  no  answer,  and  he  decided 
we  should  have  to  go  on  possibly  as  far  as  Fairfax 
Station.  Thereupon  I talked  with  the  commander  of 
the  escort,  who  thought  the  march  should  not  be 
resumed  till  the  horses  had  fed  and  had  a good  rest, 
as  it  was  at  least  thirty  miles  to  Fairfax  Station.  We 
agreed  to  start  not  later  than  half -past  ten. 

The  colonel  gave  us  some  supper  and  wanted  to 
know  all  about  the  battle;  but  I was  very  tired,  and  in 
those  days  with  strangers  very  reserved,  so  I am 
afraid  I disappointed  him,  and  soon  went  to  sleep. 
My  reticence  is  reflected  in  the  following  despatch 
from  C.  A.  Dana,  Assistant  Secretary  of  War,  whom 
Lincoln  had  asked  to  go  to  Grant  and  tell  how  the 
day  was  going;  for  that  merciful  man  could  not  stand 
the  strain  of  uncertainty  any  longer.  Dana  arrived 
at  seven  o’clock  the  following  morning,  and  reported : 
“An  officer  from  General  Meade  was  here  at  2 
o’clock  this  morning  seeking  to  telegraph  to  Wash- 
ington, but  was  recalled  by  a second  messenger.  They 
report  heavy  fighting,  etc.  . . . The  battle  is  be- 


302  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

lieved  here  to  have  been  indecisive,  but  as  the  officer 
said  but  little,  I can  gather  nothing  precise.” 

Well,  why  should  I have  particularized  or  boasted? 
The  fact  is  I had  seen  nothing  like  a victory.  Nat- 
urally prone  to  take  a dark  view,  and  equally  anxious 
to  avoid  conveying  half-developed  information,  I 
do  not  believe  that  the  colonel  could  have  pumped 
with  any  chance  of  success  in  getting  either  favorable 
news  or  full  details. 

Saddling  had  begun  when  I was  waked  up  by  the 
officer  of  the  guard,  who  said  that  a civilian  had  just 
been  brought  in  from  the  picket-line,  claiming  to  be 
a scout  from  Grant’s  headquarters  with  orders  from 
him  to  me.  I did  not  recognize  the  man,  though  I may 
have  seen  him  about  the  provost-marshal’s  head- 
quarters. He  handed  me  a small  envelope  containing 
the  following  order : — 


Headquarters,  Army  op  the  Potomac, 
May  6,  18G4  — 2 P.  M. 

Lieut.  Morris  Schafp, 

Ordnance  Officer. 

The  commanding  general  directs  that  you  return 
with  your  party  and  despatches  to  these  headquar- 
ters, the  orders  directing  the  procuring  of  an  addi- 
tional supply  of  ammunition  having  been  recalled. 
I am,  very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

S.  Williams, 

Assistant  Adjutant-General. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  303 


The  original  in  the  same  little  envelope  is  lying 
before  me  now;  it  is  beginning  to  wear  an  old  look  and 
is  turning  yellow.  You,  envelope,  and  your  associa- 
tions are  dear  to  me,  and  as  my  eye  falls  on  you,  old 
days  come  back  and  I see  the  Army  of  the  Potomac 
again.  In  a little  while  we  shall  part;  and  I wonder  if 
in  years  to  come  you  will  dream  of  that  night  when 
we  first  met  on  the  Rappahannock,  hear  the  low  in- 
termittent swish  of  the  water  among  the  willows  on 
the  fringed  banks  as  then,  and  go  back  under  the  dim 
starlight  to  the  Wilderness,  with  a light-haired  boy 
mounted  on  a young  black  horse  that  had  a little 
white  snip  on  its  nose. 

As  there  was  no  occasion  for  hurry,  and  the  scout 
and  his  horse  both  called  for  rest,  I waited  till  two 
o’clock  and  then  set  off  on  our  return,  the  scout 
taking  the  lead.  There  was  a haze  in  the  sky,  and  in 
the  woods  it  was  very  dark.  We  had  been  on  our  way 
some  time,  and  I had  paid  no  attention  to  the  direc- 
tion we  were  going,  when,  for  some  reason  or  other, 
I asked  the  scout  if  he  were  sure  of  being  on  the  right 
road.  He  answered  that  he  was,  and  we  rode  on.  But 
shortly  after,  I heard  the  roaring  of  water  falling  over 
a dam  away  off  to  our  right,  and  asked,  “Where  is 
that  dam?”  Hesaid  on  the  Rappahannock.  “If  that’s 
the  case,”  I replied,  “we  are  heading  the  wrong  way; 
it  should  be  on  our  left.” 

Well,  he  reckoned  he  knew  the  road  to  Germanna 
Ford;  but  I was  not  satisfied,  and,  after  going  a bit 


304  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


farther,  told  the  lieutenant  to  countermarch.  At  this 
the  scout  was  very  much  provoked,  declaring  we 
should  soon  be  completely  lost  in  the  woods.  He 
went  his  course  and  I went  mine,  and  within  a mile 
I struck  a narrow  lane  which  led  to  a house  with  a 
little  log  barn  or  shed  just  opposite,  and  in  a flash  I 
knew  where  we  were. 

It  was  really  a great  relief,  as  any  one  will  appre- 
ciate who  has  tried  to  find  his  way  in  a dark  night 
across  an  unfamiliar  country. 

The  water  we  heard  that  still  night  was  Mountain 
Run  flowing  over  the  dam  and  lashing  among  the 
boulders  below  it  at  Paoli  Mills.  On  my  visit  to  the 
Wilderness  last  May  I went  to  the  dam,  and  then  to 
the  old,  weather-beaten,  forsaken  mill  that  stands 
alone  some  two  hundred  yards  off  in  a field.  Its 
discontinued  race  was  empty  and  grass-grown,  and 
some  of  the  members  of  a small,  scattered  flock  of 
sheep  ready  for  shearing  were  feeding  along  its  brushy 
banks.  By  the  roadside,  below  the  boulders,  is  a 
shadowed,  gravelly-edged,  shallow  pool,  and  as  I ap- 
proached it  a little  sandpiper  flitted  away. 

Daylight  had  just  broken  when  we  reached  Mad- 
den’s, and,  as  we  were  passing  a low,  hewed  log-house, 
a powerful,  lank,  bony-faced  woman  appeared  at  the 
door  combing  a hank  of  coarse  gray  hair. 

I said,  “Good-morning,  madam,  how  far  is  it  to 
Germanna  Ford?” 

She  replied  surlily  to  my  question,  and  then  with  a 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  SO 5 


hard  smile  added,  “I  reckon  you  ’uns  got  a right 
smart  good  whipping  last  night.” 

“What  do  you  mean?”  I asked. 

“Well,  you’ll  find  out  when  you  get  back.”  And 
she  gave  me  a spurning  look  as  she  turned  in  the 
doorway  that  as  much  as  said,  “You  caught  h — 1 
and  deserved  it.” 

The  other  day  when  I traveled  the  road  I made 
some  inquiries  about  the  old  lady  and  found  that 
her  name  was  Eliza  Allen,  and  that  she  had  long 
since  died ; a catbird  was  singing  in  the  neglected 
garden. 

Reader,  to  fully  comprehend  what  Eliza  denomi- 
nated as  a “right  smart  good  whipping”  necessitates 
my  going  to  the  right  of  the  army  during  the  late 
afternoon  and  evening  of  the  first  day.  And  as  the 
narrative  is  drawing  towards  its  close  I ’d  like  to  have 
you  go  with  me.  For  I want  to  take  a walk  with  you 
before  we  part,  for  we  have  been  good  friends,  and  I 
want  you  to  see  moreover  the  Wilderness  as  it  is.  We 
will  follow  up  the  Flat  Run  Road  from  where  it  joins 
the  Germanna,  and  thence  to  where  Sedgwick’s  right 
lay.  Before  we  set  out  let  me  tell  you  that  the  dark- 
ish, weather-worn  roof  and  stubby  red  chimney  com- 
ing up  through  the  middle  of  it,  that  you  see  a half- 
mile  or  more  away  across  the  deserted  fields,  are 
those  of  the  old  Spottswood  manor-house.  Its  lower 
story  is  concealed  by  that  intervening  heave  in  the 
ground;  its  mistress,  Lady  Spottswood,  is  buried  on 


306  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


the  plantation  known  as  “Superba,”  near  Stevens- 
burg. 

In  a few  steps  this  fenceless  road,  a mere  two- 
wheeled track  winding  among  the  trees,  will  quit  the 
fields  and  lead  us  into  deep  and  lonely  woods.  I 
passed  over  it  twice  last  May,  azaleas  and  dogwoods 
were  blooming  then  as  now,  and  I think  I can  point 
out  the  identical  giant  huckleberry  — it  is  on  the  left 
of  the  road  — whose  white  pendulous  flowers  first 
caught  my  eye  with  their  suggestion  of  bells  tolling 
for  the  dead.  And  I venture  to  say  that  no  finer  or 
larger  violets  are  to  be  seen  anywhere  in  the  world, 
or  more  pleasing  little  houstonias,  than  you  see  now. 
Later  on  I can  promise  you  the  sight  of  cowslips  gild- 
ing patches  of  shallow,  stagnant  water;  for  as  we  draw 
nearer  to  where  Sedgwick’s  line  was  first  established 
(the  maps  show  it)  we  shall  come  to  the  swampy 
heads  of  Caton’s  Run  and  the  upper  waters  of  the 
tributaries  of  Flat  Run.  The  road  is  between  them, 
the  former  on  our  left,  the  latter  on  the  right.  Hark 
a minute ! that  must  be  the  same  herd  of  cattle  I met 
with  last  year:  I came  on  them  at  this  sudden  turn 
and  up  went  every  head  wildly.  Yes,  the  same  lonely 
Ming , Mung.  I recognize  the  bells.  We  shall  not  see 
them ; they  are  feeding  off  toward  the  Pike  and  War- 
ren’s lines. 

“ I thought  you  said  it  was  not  very  far,  but  we  have 
walked  at  least  a mile.  How  much  farther?”  Only  a 
short  way;  a new  road  is  always  long.  “What  is  this 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  307 


low,  continuous  mound  that  we  see  on  both  sides  of 
the  road?”  halting  suddenly,  you  ask.  That  is  all 
that  is  left  of  Sedgwick’s  entrenchments.  Let  us  fol- 
low it  to  the  right,  if  for  nothing  else  on  account  of  its 
soliciting  lonesomeness.  I am  sure  it  will  enjoy  our 
presence,  for  think  of  the  days  and  nights  it  has  lain 
here  dreaming.  “Do  you  imagine  the  spirits  of  those 
boys  ever  come  back,  who  fell  here  ? ” Oh,  yes,  over 
and  over  again  in  line  with  flags  flying  and  the  roses 
of  youth  in  their  cheeks.  Think  of  the  fires,  though, 
that  swept  through  the  woods  that  night!  “ I wonder 
if  spectral  ones  break  out  with  the  reappearance  of 
the  dead?  ” No,  and  if  they  should,  the  trees  would 
shiver  down  the  fallen  dew  and  quench  them;  for 
timber  dreads  to  hear  the  snapping  march  of  fire. 

“Shall  we  go  on?”  Yes,  a bit  farther;  the  walk- 
ing is  not  easy,  I know,  for  the  limbs  are  low  and  the 
trees  are  thick.  Moreover  it  is  growing  rougher  and 
swampier;  more  and  more,  too,  the  green  vines  impede 
our  way.  Test  their  strength  if  you  care  to  do  so.  But 
here  at  last  is  the  right  of  the  line  near  the  head  of 
a branch.  If  we  were  to  follow  it  till  it  meets  the  run, 
and  then  a bit  farther  northward,  we  should  come 
in  sight  of  some  old  fields ; but  we  will  not  penetrate 
deeper;  let  us  pause  and  rest  a moment  for  we  are 
in  one  of  the  depths  of  the  Wilderness.  Notice  the 
rapt,  brooding,  sullen  stillness  of  the  woods,  the  moss 
in  tufts  tagging  those  forlorn,  blotched  young  pines, 
those  dark  shallow  pools  with  their  dead-leaf  bot- 


308  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


toms,  that  leaning  stub  with  only  one  limb  left,  those 
motionless  fallen  trees,  and  those  short  vistas  scruti- 
nizing us  with  their  melancholy  gray  eyes.  Were  you 
ever  in  a quieter  spot  or  one  where  you  felt  the  living 
presence  of  a vaster,  more  wizard  loneliness?  “Never, 
never.”  Your  voice  even  sounds  strange;  and,  excuse 
me,  if  I remark  a glint  of  wildness  in  your  eyes,  — 
that  atavistic  glint  which  comes  only  in  places  like 
this. 

Well,  on  the  afternoon  of  the  first  day,  about  here 
the  right  of  Keifer’s  brigade  formed  — it  ought  to  be 
known  in  history  as  Keifer’s,  for  Seymour  had  just 
been  assigned  to  it.  It  consisted  of  the  Sixth  Mary- 
land, One  Hundred  and  Tenth,  One  Hundred  and 
Twenty-second,  One  Hundred  and  Twenty-sixth 
Ohio,  Sixty-seventh  and  One  Hundred  and  Thirty- 
eighth  Pennsylvania;  and  Ohio,  Maryland,  and  Penn- 
sylvania may  well  be  proud  of  their  record  on  this 
ground.  On  their  left  were  those  sterling  brigades  of 
Russell  and  Neill  of  the  Sixth  Corps,  only  a few  of  the 
men  visible,  the  bulk  completely  buried  by  the  thick 
undergrowth.  Let  us  imagine  that  this  is  the  day  of 
battle,  that  the  sun  is  on  the  point  of  setting,  and 
that  orders  have  come  to  go  ahead. 

If  you  care  to  go  forward  with  them  I’ll  go  with 
you.  “Go!  why,  yes,  yes,  let  us  go  by  all  means!” 
For  the  sake  of  my  old  state,  let  us  join  the  One 
Hundred  and  Tenth  Ohio  under  Colonel  Binkley. 
The  first  line  under  Keifer  is  made  up  of  that  regiment 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  309 


and  the  Sixth  Maryland,  the  latter  on  the  left,  con- 
necting with  the  Fourth  New  Jersey.  Behind  us  in 
a second  line  are  the  One  Hundred  and  Twenty- 
second  Ohio,  then  the  One  Hundred  and  Thirty- 
eighth  Pennsylvania,  and  then  the  One  Hundred  and 
Twenty-sixth  Ohio.  Colonel  John  W.  Horn,  com- 
manding the  Sixth  Maryland,  is  sending  out  skir- 
mishers to  cover  his  front;  they  are  under  Captain 
Prentiss,  a very  gallant  man.  (In  the  final  charges 
on  the  forts  of  the  Petersburg  lines  Prentiss  led  a 
storming  party,  and,  as  he  crossed  the  parapet,  had 
his  breastbone  carried  away  by  a piece  of  shell,  ex- 
posing his  heart’s  actions  to  view.  The  Confederate 
commanding  the  battery  which  had  just  been  over- 
powered fell  also,  and  the  two  officers  lying  there 
side  by  side  recognized  each  other  as  brothers.  They 
were  from  Baltimore.)  Captain  Luther  Brown  of  the 
One  Hundred  and  Tenth  Ohio  is  in  charge  of  the 
skirmishers  in  his  regiment’s  front.  Now  the  order 
comes  for  the  first  line  to  move  forward.  The  colors 
advance;  let  us  go  with  them.  That  firm,  earnest- 
eyed man  commanding  the  regiment  is  Binkley;  and 
there  is  McElwain,  one  of  the  bravest  of  the  brave. 
The  fire  is  terrific,  men  are  falling,  but  colors  and  men 
are  going  ahead.  Did  you  see  the  look  in  that  ser- 
geant’s face  as  he  fell  ? And  now  comes  a horrid 
thud  as  a shot  strikes  a corporal  full  in  the  breast. 
(Pushing  aside  the  low,  stubborn  limbs  and  scram- 
bling over  these  wretched  vines,  on  goes  the  line. 


310  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


There  is  no  silence  in  the  dismal  Wilderness  now. 
Smoke  is  billowing  up  through  it,  the  volleys  are 
frequent  and  resounding;  bullets  in  sheets  are  clip- 
ping leaves  and  limbs,  and  scoring  or  burying  them- 
selves deep  in  the  trunks  of  the  trees.  On  go  the  sons 
of  Ohio  and  Maryland.)  I wonder  how  much  longer 
they  can  stand  it.  Look,  look  how  the  men  are  going 
down!  But  don’t  let  us  cast  our  eyes  behind  us;  as 
long  as  those  brave  fellows  go  ahead,  let  us  go  with 
them. 

The  lines  are  slowing  up  under  that  frightful,  with- 
ering fire.  Now  they  stand,  they  can  go  no  farther, 
for  just  ahead  (behind  logs  hurriedly  assembled)  on 
that  rising  ground  are  the  enemy,  and  they  mean  to 
hold  it.  Moreover,  it  has  grown  so  dark  that  their 
position  is  made  known  only  by  the  deep  red,  angrily 
flashing  light  from  the  leveled  muzzles  of  their  guns. 
Although  Keifer  has  reported  that  unless  reinforced 
he  doubts  being  able  to  carry  the  position,  yet  back 
comes  the  command  to  attack  at  once.  The  line 
obeys,  but  is  checked  by  a terrible  fire.  Some  brave 
fellow  cries  out,  “Once  more”;  they  try  it  again,  but 
the  fire  is  too  heavy.1  Here  for  nearly  three  hours  they 

1 Captain  W.  W.  Old  of  General  Edward  Johnson’s  division  (Southern 
Historical  papers)  says  that  the  fighting  was  so  intense  that  night  that 
General  Johnson  sent  him  to  get  two  regiments  to  take  the  place  of  as 
many  men  in  Pegram’s  brigade  whose  guns  were  so  hot  that  they  could 
not  handle  them.  He  arranged  to  slide  the  fresh  regiments  along  the 
breastworks,  but  was  told  that  there  was  no  room  for  more  men,  that 
all  they  wanted  was  loaded  guns,  and  details  were  made  to  load  and  carry 
them  in. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  311 


stand  that  scourging  fire,  bullets  at  highest  speed, 
for  it  is  very  close  range,  converging  across  their 
flank  from  right  and  left.  Keifer,  although  seriously 
wounded,  is  staying  with  them.  Who  is  this  riding 
up  in  the  darkness  to  Keifer,  saying  sharply,  “Sup- 
port must  be  sent,  for  the  enemy  are  flanking  us”? 
It  is  the  daring  McElwain;  down  goes  his  horse.  (That 
is  the  last  of  the  gallant  fellow;  he  and  many  others 
are  burned  beyond  recognition.) 

At  last  the  men  are  falling  back;  but  let  us  take 
this  little  fellow  with  us  and  help  him  along.  We  lift 
him,  he  puts  his  arms  around  our  necks,  and,  collid- 
ing with  trees,  limbs  raking  our  faces,  we  stagger 
along  over  the  uneven  ground  in  the  dark.  Now  we 
stumble  headlong  over  a body,  and,  as  we  fall,  our 
friend  moans  piteously,  and  so  does  the  unfortunate 
man  our  feet  have  struck,  who  says  faintly,  “I  belong 
to  Stafford’s  brigade  [Confederate];  will  you  get  me 
some  water?”  I hear  you  say  right  heartily,  for  I 
know  you  are  gallant  men,  “Yes,  indeed,  we  will. 
You,  Captain,  take  the  little  corporal  along  and  bring 
a canteen  and  I’ll  stay  here  till  you  come  back.”  On 
my  return,  “Where  are  you?”  I cry.  “Here  we  are; 
come  quickly,  for  the  fire  in  the  woods  is  making  this 
way  fast.”  And  the  soldier  in  gray  is  borne  to  the 
rear. 

Let  us  close  our  eyes  to  the  scene  and  our  ears  to 
the  cries,  and  leave  this  volley-crashing  and  heart- 
rending pandemonium.  The  Sixth  Maryland  has  lost. 


312  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


out  of  442, 152 officers  and  men;  and  the  One  Hundred 
and  Tenth  Ohio,  115  killed  and  wounded. 

Grant,  through  misinformation,  reported  to  Halleck 
two  days  later  that  Keifer’s  brigade  had  not  behaved 
well,  and  for  years  and  years  they  have  had  to  stand 
this  bitter  injustice.  It  is  true  that  the  next  night  this 
brigade,  as  well  as  Shaler’s,  which  was  sent  to  its 
right,  was  swept  away  by  Gordon  in  the  discomfiture 
referred  to  by  Mrs.  Allen;  but  let  us  look  into  the 
facts. 

The  impetuous  attacks  of  Russell’s,  Neill’s,  and 
Keifer’s  brigades  on  that  first  night  were  met  by  those 
of  Hays,  Pegram,  and  Stafford,  during  which,  as  al- 
ready told,  Pegram  was  severely  and  Stafford  mor- 
tally wounded.  The  losses  on  both  sides  were  heavy, 
and  toward  the  close  of  the  action  Gordon  was  sent 
for  by  Ewell  to  go  to  the  support  of  his  stagger- 
ing troops.  Owing  to  the  darkness  and  the  nature  of 
the  wood,  it  was  well  along  in  the  night,  and  the 
fighting  was  over,  before  his  brigade  reached  a posi- 
tion on  the  extreme  left  of  Ewell’s  line,  which  at 
this  point  swung  back  a little  northwestwardly.  Gor- 
don directed  his  men  to  sleep  on  their  arms,  and  at 
once  sent  out  scouts  to  feel  their  way  and  find  the 
right,  if  possible,  of  Keifer’s  position.  At  an  early 
hour  these  scouts  reported  that  his  lines  overlapped 
it  and  that  it  was  wholly  unprotected. 

This  news  was  of  such  importance  that  he  sent  the 
scouts  back  to  verify  it.  Satisfied  on  their  return  that 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  313 


they  had  not  been  deceived,  and  keenly  appreciat- 
ing what  his  adversary’s  unprotected  flank  invited, 
he  waited  impatiently  for  daybreak.  As  soon  as  it 
broke,  he  mounted  his  horse  and  was  guided  by  his 
explorers  of  the  night  before  to  a spot  from  whence, 
creeping  forward  cautiously  some  distance,  he  saw 
with  his  own  eyes  our  exposed  flank.  The  men,  un- 
conscious of  danger,  were  seated  around  little  camp- 
fires boiling  their  coffee.  Colonel  Ball  of  the  One 
Hundred  and  Twenty-second  Ohio  says  that  Gen- 
eral Seymour,  then  in  command  of  the  brigade,  was 
repeatedly  notified  during  the  night  that  the  enemy 
were  engaged  cutting  timber  for  their  works  and 
moving  to  our  right.  For  some  reason  or  other  Gen- 
eral Seymour  did  not  give  heed  to  this  significant 
information  and  throw  up  a line  for  the  safety  of  his 
right.  Gordon  rode  at  once,  burning  with  his  discov- 
ery, to  his  division  commander,  Jubal  A.  Early,  a 
sour,  crabbed  character,  who,  unlike  Gordon  and  the 
big-hearted  and  broad-minded  Confederates,  bore  a 
gloomy  heart,  a self-exile  cursing  his  country  to  the 
last.  WTaat  is  bleaker  than  an  old  age  a slave  to  Hate ! 
Our  higher  natures  have  each  its  dwelling  place  — 
and  how  often  they  invite  us  up,  and  how  rarely  we 
accept!  But  I cannot  believe  that  they  extended 
many  invitations  to  Jubal  A.  Early  — who,  after  the 
war  was  all  over  and  Peace  healing  the  wounds,  still 
kept  on  with  increasing  bitterness  — to  join  them 
around  their  hearths.  No,  there  as  here,  the  Spirit 


314  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


loves  the  man  and  soldier  who  takes  his  defeats  and 
disappointments  with  a gentleman’s  manliness. 

Gordon  laid  the  situation  before  Early,  expecting 
him  to  jump  at  the  chance  to  strike  a blow  such  as 
that  which  made  Stonewall  famous.  But,  to  Gor- 
don’s amazement,  Early  refused  to  entertain  his  sug- 
gestion of  a flank  attack,  alleging  as  a reason  that 
Burnside  was  on  the  Germanna  Road  directly  behind 
Sedgwick’s  right,  and  could  be  thrown  at  once  on  the 
flank  of  any  attacking  force  that  should  try  to  strike 
it.  If  this  interview  took  place  between  daylight  and 
seven  o’clock,  Early  was  right  as  to  the  presence  of  a 
part,  at  least,  of  Burnside’s  troops  on  the  Germanna 
Road,  for,  as  we  have  already  seen,  the  head  of  his 
rear  division,  the  first,  did  not  reach  the  Pike  till 
about  seven  o’clock. 

Early  declining  to  make  the  attack,  Gordon  went 
to  Ewell  and  urged  it  upon  him;  but  he  hesitated  to 
overrule  Early’s  decision,  and  so  Gordon  had  to  go 
back  to  his  brigade,  cast  down  and  doubtless  dis- 
gusted through  and  through  with  the  lack  of  enter- 
prise on  the  part  of  his  superiors  and  seniors.  He  was 
only  thirty-two  or  three,  while  Ewell  and  Early  were 
approaching  fifty  years  of  age.  By  the  time  Gordon 
had  returned  from  his  fruitless  mission,  Shaler’s  bri- 
gade had  been  sent  to  Seymour’s  right.  Thus  Ewell’s 
lines  lay  quiescent  throughout  the  livelong  day  be- 
hind their  entrenchments,  while  Longstreet  and  Field 
desperately  battled  to  the  southeast  of  them.  To  his 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  315 


failure  to  grasp  the  golden  opportunity  Ewell  owes 
his  fixed  place  in  the  rank  of  second-rate  military 
men;  but  he  is  not  alone;  it  is  a big  class.  The  truth  is 
that  next  to  hen’s  teeth  real  military  genius  is  about 
the  rarest  thing  in  the  world. 

Stung  by  disappointment  over  his  failure  to  carry 
the  Brock  Road,  Lee  set  off  for  Ewell’s  headquarters, 
the  declining  sun  admonishing  him  that  only  a few 
hours  remained  in  which  to  reap  his  expectations  of 
the  morning.  The  course  he  takes,  if  one  cares  to  fol- 
low him,  is,  for  a mile  or  more,  through  a wandering 
leaf-strewn,  overarched  wood-road  to  the  Chewning 
farm,  his  general  direction  almost  due  northwest. 
At  Chewning’s  he  passes  Pegram’s  and  McIntosh’s 
batteries;  they  salute,  — the  Confederates  cheered 
rarely,  — he  lifts  his  hat,  carries  his  gauntleted  left 
hand  a little  to  the  right,  presses  his  high-topped  boot 
against  Traveller’s  right  side,  and  the  well-trained 
gray,  feeling  rein  and  leg,  changes  to  almost  due 
north,  and  with  his  strong,  proudly-daring  gallop 
brings  his  master  to  the  Pike. 

When  Lee  reined  up  at  Ewell’s  headquarters,  he 
asked  sharply,  — I think  I can  see  the  blaze  in  his 
potent  dark  brown  eye,  — “Cannot  something  be 
done  on  this  flank  to  relieve  the  pressure  upon  our 
right?”  It  so  happened  that  both  Early  and  Gordon 
were  with  Ewell  when  this  guardedly  reproving  ques- 
tion was  put.  After  listening  as  a young  man  and  sub- 
ordinate should  to  the  conference  of  his  superiors. 


816  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Gordon  felt  it  his  duty  to  acquaint  Lee  with  what  the 
reader  already  knows.  Early,  with  his  usual  obsti- 
nacy, vigorously  opposed  the  movement,  maintaining 
that  Burnside  was  still  there;  Lee,  having  just  thrown 
Burnside  back  from  the  Plank  Road,  heard  him 
through,  and  thereupon  promptly  ordered  Gordon  to 
make  the  attack  at  once.  By  this  time  the  sun  was 
nearly  set. 


XII 


Gordon  set  off,  moving  by  the  left  flank,  with  his 
own  and  Robert  D.  Johnston’s  North  Carolina  bri- 
gade (the  one  that  claims  it  made  the  march  of  sixty 
odd  miles  in  twenty-three  hours!),  and,  after  making 
a detour  through  the  woods,  brought  his  men  up  as 
rapidly  and  noiselessly  as  possible  on  Shaler’s  flank. 
Pausing  till  Johnston  should  gain  the  rear  of  Shaler’s 
brigade,  and  then,  when  all  was  ready,  with  a single 
volley,  and  the  usual  wild,  screaming  yells,  he  rushed 
right  on  to  the  surprised  and  bewildered  lines,  which 
broke  convulsively,  only  to  meet  Johnston.  Sey- 
mour’s right  was  struck,  panic  set  in,  and  the  men 
fled  down  the  lines  to  the  left,  and  hundreds,  if  not 
thousands,  back  to  the  Flat  Run  and  Germanna 
roads.  When  those  following  the  breastworks  reached 
Neill’s  steadfast  brigade,  Colonel  Smith  of  the  Sixty- 
first  Pennsylvania  gave  the  command,  “By  the  right 
flank,  file  right,  double-quick,  march ! ” This  brought 
him  right  across  the  retreating  masses,  and  he  told 
his  men  to  stop  the  stampede  as  best  they  could;  but 
the  disorganized  men  swept  through  them  in  the 
gathering  darkness,  the  Confederates  on  their  heels. 

But,  meanwhile,  Morris  and  Upton  had  come  to 
Smith’s  aid,  and  between  them  they  stopped  Gor- 
don; not,  however,  without  losing  a number  of  men 


318  _ THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


and  prisoners,  among  whom  was  F.  L.  Blair  of  Pitts- 
burgh, a member  of  the  Sixty-first  Pennsylvania,  to 
whom  I am  indebted  for  a vivid  account  of  what 
happened.  Shaler  and  Seymour,  trying  to  rally  their 
men,  were  both  taken  prisoners. 

' As  soon  as  the  break  occurred,  Sedgwick  threw 
himself  among  his  veterans,  crying,  “Stand!  stand, 
men!  Remember  you  belong  to  the  Sixth  Corps!” 
On  hearing  his  voice  in  the  darkness,  they  rallied. 
Meanwhile  the  panic  was  at  its  height,  and  several 
of  his  staff  flew  to  Meade’s  headquarters,  — Meade 
at  that  time  was  over  at  Grant’s,  — telling  Hum- 
phreys that  the  right  was  turned,  the  Sixth  Corps  had 
been  smashed  to  pieces,  and  that  the  enemy  were 
coming  up  the  road.  Humphreys,  with  that  prompt- 
ness and  cool-headedness  which  never  deserted  him, 
let  the  situation  be  as  appalling  as  it  might,  at  once 
made  dispositions  to  meet  this  unexpected  onslaught, 
calling  on  Hunt,  the  provost  guard,  and  Warren,  all 
of  whom  responded  briskly.  Lyman  says  in  his  notes, 
“About  7.30  p.  m.  ordered  to  take  over  a statement  of 
the  case  to  General  Grant  in  the  hollow  hard  by.  He 
seemed  more  disturbed  than  Meade  about  it,  and  they 
afterwards  consulted  together.  In  truth,  they  [the 
enemy]  had  no  idea  of  their  success.”  Meade  then 
returned  to  his  headquarters,  Grant  going  with  him. 

On  hearing  some  of  the  panicky  reports  from  Sedg- 
wick’s aides,  Meade  turned  to  one  of  them  and  asked 
fiercely,  “Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  the  Sixth 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  319 


Corps  is  to  do  no  more  fighting  this  campaign?”  “I 

am  fearful  not,  sir,”  quoth . I think  I can  see  and 

hear  Meade,  and  I cannot  help  smiling,  for  it  reminds 
me  of  a little  interview  I had  with  him  myself  a few 
days  later,  the  first  morning  at  Spotsylvania.  I hap- 
pened to  be  in  the  yard  of  the  Hart  house,  gazing 
across  the  valley  of  the  sleepy  Po  at  a long  Confeder- 
ate wagon-train  hastening  southward  amid  a cloud  of 
dust,  when  he  rode  up.  I ventured  to  say  to  him  that 
a battery  would  easily  reach  that  train.  He  gave  me  a 
deploring  look  and  then  said,  “Yes!  and  what  good 
would  you  do?  scare  a few  niggers  and  old  mules!” 
That  was  the  only  suggestion  I made  to  him  for  the 
management  of  his  campaign. 

Well,  Sedgwick,  having  thrown  himself  into  the 
breach,  rallied  his  men,  and  the  danger  was  soon  over; 
for  Gordon’s  troops  were  in  utter  confusion,  engulfed 
by  the  Wilderness,  as  ours  had  been  in  every  one  of 
their  attacks;  and  he  was  mighty  glad,  and  so  were 
his  men,  to  get  back  to  their  lines. 

Gordon’s  attack,  brilliant  as  it  was,  and  thoroughly 
in  keeping  with  his  exploits  on  so  many  fields,  fields 
whose  sod  I am  sure  cherishes  his  memory  fondly,  has 
never  seemed  to  me  to  have  had  the  importance  that 
he,  in  his  frank,  trumpet-breathing  reminiscences, 
attached  to  it.  He  contends  that,  if  he  had  been  al- 
lowed to  make  the  attack  earlier  in  the  day,  it  would 
inevitably  have  brought  complete  victory.  But  how 
easy  for  him,  how  natural  for  us  all,  to  be  deceived  by 


320  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


retrospection!  For  chance  sows  her  seed  of  possibil- 
ity in  the  upturned  earth  of  every  critical  hour  of  our 
lives;  the  mist  of  years  quickens  it,  and  in  due  time 
the  clambering,  blossoming  vines  are  over  the  face  of 
Failure,  hiding  its  stony,  inexorable  stare.  The  past 
-of  every  one,  of  armies  and  empires,  as  history  tells  us 
well,  is  dotted  with  patches  of  this  blooming  posy; 
and  I can  readily  see  how  Gordon’s  reverie-dreaming 
eye,  floating  over  the  sad  fate  of  the  Confederacy 
which  he  loved  so  well,  should  fall  on  that  day  in  the 
Wilderness;  and  how  at  once  possibility  reversed  the 
failure  beneath  the  lace-work  of  this  apparently  so 
real,  so  comforting  and  illusive  bloom. 

Yet,  as  a matter  of  fact,  there  was  only  one  hour  on 
the  sixth,  as  I view  it,  when  his  attack  would  have 
been  determining,  — but,  fortunately  for  the  country, 
that  hour  never  came;  — namely,  when  Longstreet 
should  have  overwhelmed  Hancock,  which,  as  I be- 
lieve upon  my  soul,  he  would  have  done  had  not  Fate 
intervened.  Hancock  would  probably  have  met  the 
end  of  Wadsworth,  inasmuch  as  he  never  would  have 
left  that  key  of  the  battle  without  pledging  his  life 
over  and  over  again,  — I say,  had  Gordon  struck  at 
that  hour,  nothing,  I think,  could  have  saved  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac.  But  so  long  as  we  held  the 
Brock  Road,  I doubt  very  much  if  it  would  have  been 
attended  with  any  results  more  serious  than  it  was. 

But  let  that  be  as  it  may,  by  half-past  nine  the  tu- 
mult died  down  and  the  Wilderness  resumed  her 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  321 


large,  deep  silence.  So  great,  however,  was  the  con- 
fusion, and  so  keen  the  consciousness  that  a disaster 
had  just  been  escaped,  it  was  decided  to  establish  a 
new  line  for  Sedgwick;  and  accordingly  the  engineers 
proceeded  in  the  darkness  to  lay  one.  Starting  on  the 
right  of  the  Fifth  Corps,  they  swung  the  line  back 
along  the  ridge  south  of  Caton’s  Run,  resting  its 
right  across  the  Germanna  Road,  thus  giving  up  all 
north  of  Caton’s  Run,  including  the  Flat  Run  Road. 
The  map  shows  the  new  line.  It  was  near  midnight 
when  Sedgwick’s  men  began  to  move  into  their  retro- 
grade, and  obviously  defensive  position. 

This  acknowledged  attitude  of  repulse,  together 
with  the  dismaying  experiences  of  Warren  and  Han- 
cock, threw  the  shadow  of  impending  misfortune, 
which  found  expression  far  and  wide  that  night  in 
sullenly  muttered  predictions  that  the  army  would  re- 
cross the  Rapidan  within  the  next  twenty-four  hours. 

And  what  should  be  more  natural?  For  hitherto 
two  days  of  conflict  with  the  Army  of  Northern  Vir- 
ginia south  of  the  Rapidan  and  Rappahannock  had 
marked  the  limit  of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac’s 
bloody  stay.  The  two  days  were  up,  between  sixteen 
and  seventeen  thousand  killed  and  wounded,  the 
fighting  in  some  respects  more  desperate  than  ever, 
and  as  a climax,  the  right  flank  crushed,  as  in  Hooker’s 
case! 

Was  history  to  repeat  itself?  Already  three  long 
years  of  war!  When  will  this  thing  end?  Must  we  go 


322  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 

back  defeated,  as  in  years  gone  by,  and  then  try  it 
over  again?  No,  sorely  and  oft-tested  veterans,  you 
have  crossed  the  Rapidan  for  the  last  time.  At  this 
hour  to-morrow  night  you  will  be  on  the  march 
toward  Richmond;  for,  dark  as  it  looks  to  you  and  to 
us  all,  the  Rapidan  will  never  hear  your  tread  again 
till  you  are  marching  home  from  Appomattox.  And 
I am  sure  the  river  will  ask  you,  as  you  are  on  your 
way  across  it  then,  “Army  of  the  Potomac,  what  has 
become  of  Lee’s  bugles  that  we  used  to  hear  on  still 
nights?  the  singers  of  the  hymns,  and  the  voices  of 
those  who  prayed  in  such  humility  for  peace,  for  their 
firesides,  and  their  Confederacy,  — it  is  almost  a year 
since  we  have  heard  them.  What  has  become  of  them 
all?”  And  I think  I can  hear  you  reply  tenderly, 
“We  overcame  them  at  Appomattox,  have  given  them 
the  best  terms  we  could,  have  shared  our  rations  and 
parted  with  them,  hoping  that  God  would  comfort 
them  and  at  last  bless  the  Southland.”  And  so  He 
has.  O Hate,  where  was  thy  victory?  O Defeat, 
where  was  thy  sting? 

To  revert  to  Gordon’s  attack:  the  rumor  was 
started  that  night  — my  friend,  “Charley”  McCon- 
nell of  the  Fifth  Artillery,  heard  it  and  reported  it  to 
Sheridan  — that  Meade  was  ready  to  take  the  back 
track.  Later  in  the  campaign,  when  the  burdens  were 
lying  heavy  on  his  shoulders,  and  everybody  should 
have  stood  by  him,  for  the  awful  slaughter  of  Cold 
Harbor  had  just  occurred,  unscrupulous  staff  officers 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  323 


and  newspaper  correspondents  whom  he  had  offended 
declared  the  rumor  to  be  a fact.  Meade’s  temper! 
How  much  it  cost  him,  and  how  long  it  kept  the  story 
going!  Oh,  if  Fortune  had  hung  a censer  on  his 
sword-hilt,  and  he  could  have  swung  the  odor  of 
sweet  spices  and  fragrant  gums  under  the  nostrils 
of  his  fellow  men,  including  cabinet  officers,  then,  oh, 
then,  his  star  would  not  be  shining,  as  now,  alone, 
and  so  far  below  Sheridan’s  and  Sherman’s ! His  chief 
trouble  was  that  he  always  made  ill-breeding,  shrewd- 
ness, and  presuming  mediocrity,  uncomfortable. 

But  as  for  his  taking  the  back  track,  on  the  con- 
trary he  is  reported  to  have  exclaimed,  “By  God!  the 
army  is  across  now,  and  it  has  got  to  stay  across ! ” If 
the  oath  were  uttered,  heard  and  recorded,  then,  at 
the  last  great  day,  when  the  book  shall  be  opened  and 
his  name  in  order  be  called,  “ George  Gordon  Meade ! ” 
and  he  shall  rise  and,  uncovering,  answer  in  his  richly 
modulated  voice  “Here!”  I believe,  as  the  old  fellow 
stands  there  at  the  bar  of  judgment,  bleak  his  heart 
but  unfaltering  his  eye,  he  will  look  so  like  an  honest 
gentleman  in  bearing,  that  the  Judge,  after  gazing  at 
his  furrowed  face  a while,  will  say  with  smothered 
emotion,  “Blot  out  the  oath  and  pass  him  in.”  I 
really  hope  at  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  Reader,  that 
he  will  include  you  and  me,  and  the  bulk  of  the  old 
Army  of  the  Potomac;  and,  to  tell  the  honest  truth,  I 
shall  be  unhappy  if  we  do  not  find  the  old  Army  of 
Northern  Virginia  there,  too. 


324  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


* Sheridan,  the  great  Sheridan,  for,  whatever  may 
have  been  his  mould  or  the  clay  that  was  put  in  it,  he 
was  the  one  flaming  Ithuriel  of  the  North,  by  dark  had 
drawn  back  from  Todd’s  Tavern  to  Chancellorsville, 
and  was  encircling  the  disquieted  trains.  Custer  on 
going  into  bivouac  near  Welford’s  F urnace  had  scat- 
tered his  buglers  far  and  wide  through  the  woods,  with 
instructions  to  sound  taps,  to  make  the  enemy  believe 
that  cavalry  was  there  in  thousands;  and  every  little 
while  up  till  midnight  these  notes  would  peal  through 
the  silent  timber.  Wilson  was  camped  between  Grant’s 
headquarters  and  Chancellorsville,  and  that  night 
Sheridan’s  chief  of  staff,  Forsyth,  shared  his  blanket 
with  him. 

Well,  with  Gordon’s  attack  over,  the  second  day 
of  Lee’s  and  Grant’s  mighty  struggle  for  mastery  in 
the  Wilderness  ends,  and  great  majestic  night  has 
fallen  again.  The  losses  of  each  have  been  appalling; 
and  from  Maine  to  the  far-away  Missouri  (for  Sher- 
man was  moving  also),  there  is  not  a neighborhood 
or  a city  where  awe  and  anxiety  are  not  deep,  for  all 
realize  that  on  this  campaign  hangs  the  nation’s 
life.  The  newspapers  have  proclaimed  the  armies 
in  motion,  and  the  thousands  of  letters  written  just 
as  camps  were  breaking  have  reached  home.  The 
father  has  been  to  the  post  office,  he  has  a letter 
from  Tom,  the  family  assembles,  and  his  voice  trem- 
bles as  he  reads  his  brave  boy’s  final  tender  message 
to  him  and  the  mother,  who  with  uplifted  apron  is 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  325 


quenching  her  tears,  and  saying,  struggling  with  emo- 
tion, “Perhaps  our  Tom  will  be  spared;  perhaps  he 
will  be.”  “Do  not  give  way,  mother;  do  not  cry ! Old 
Grant  will  win  at  last,”  exclaims  the  husband,  as  he 
puts  the  letter  back  into  the  envelope  and  goes  over 
and  strokes  with  loving  hand  his  wife’s  bended  brow. 
But  let  him  or  the  North  be  as  hopeful  and  consol- 
ing as  might  be,  they  could  not  drown  the  memory 
of  the  long  train  of  consuming  and  depressing  vicissi- 
tudes of  the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  which,  with  the 
other  armies  in  Virginia,  up  to  this  time  had  lost,  in 
killed,  wounded,  and  missing,  the  awful  aggregate  of 
143,925  men,  the  majority  of  them  under  twenty-two. 

Yes,  two  days  of  awful  suspense  for  the  North  have 
gone  by,  and  city  is  calling  to  city,  village  to  village, 
neighborhood  to  neighborhood,  “What  news  from 
Grant?”  Hour  after  hour  draws  on,  and  not  a word 
from  him.  The  village  grocer  has  closed,  and  his 
habitual  evening  visitors  have  dispersed,  the  lights 
in  the  farm-houses  have  all  gone  out.  Here  and  there 
a lamp  blinks  on  the  deserted,  elm-shaded  street,  and 
in  the  dooryard  of  a little  home  on  the  back  road  off 
among  the  fields  — the  boy  who  went  from  there  is 
a color-bearer  lying  in  Hancock’s  front  — a dog  bays 
lonelily.  The  halfway  querulous,  potential,  rumbling 
hum  of  the  city  has  died  down,  “midnight  clangs 
from  the  clocks  in  the  steeples,”  and  the  night  edi- 
tors of  the  great  dailies  in  New  York,  Philadelphia, 
Boston,  and  Chicago  are  still  holding  back  their  is- 


326  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


sues,  hoping  that  the  next  click  of  the  fast  operating 
telegraph  will  bring  tidings,  glad  tidings  of  victory 
from  the  old  Army  of  the  Potomac. 

Mr.  Lincoln  cannot  sleep,  and  at  midnight,  unable 
to  stand  the  uncertainty  any  longer,  asks  Dana,  As- 
sistant Secretary  of  War,  to  go  down  and  see  Grant 
and  find  out  how  it  is  going.  At  that  very  hour 
Grant’s  staff  and  all  about  headquarters,  save  a news- 
paper man,  are  asleep,  and  Grant,  with  the  collar  of 
his  coat  upturned,  is  sitting  alone,  with  clouded  face, 
looking  into  a little  dying-down  camp-fire,  nervously 
shifting  his  legs  over  each  other.  Of  all  the  tides  in 
the  remarkable  career  of  this  modest,  quiet  man,  that 
of  this  midnight  hour  in  the  Wilderness  is  easily  the 
highest  in  dramatic  interest.  What  were  the  natural 
reflections,  as  he  sat  there  alone  at  that  still,  solemn 
hour? 

Two  days  of  deadly  encounter;  every  man  who 
could  bear  a musket  had  been  put  in;  Hancock  and 
Warren  repulsed,  Sedgwick  routed,  and  now  on  the 
defensive  behind  breastworks;  the  cavalry  drawn 
back;  the  trains  seeking  safety  beyond  the  Rapidan; 
thousands  and  thousands  of  killed  and  wounded,  — he 
can  almost  hear  the  latter’s  cries,  so  hushed  is  the 
night,  — and  the  air  pervaded  with  a lurking  feeling 
of  being  face  to  face  with  disaster.  What,  what  is  the 
matter  with  the  Army  of  the  Potomac?  Was  an  evil, 
dooming  spirit  cradled  with  it,  which  no  righteous  zeal 
or  courage  can  appease?  And  he  shifts  his  position. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  327 


Let  there  be  no  mistake:  Grant  had  reached  the 
verge  of  the  steepest  crisis  in  his  life;  and  I think 
under  the  circumstances  he  would  not  have  been  hu- 
man if  the  past  had  not  come  back.  He  sees  himself 
rising  from  obscurity,  and  the  howl  of  the  wolf  that 
has  never  been  far  from  his  door,  drowned  in  the 
cheers  of  his  countrymen  over  victories  he  had  won; 
rising  from  a cloud  of  painful,  uncharitable  disrepute 
up  to  the  chief  command  of  all  the  armies  and  his 
country  pinning  its  last  hopes  on  his  star.  What  a 
retrospect!  Was  it  all  a dream,  a dream  to  be  shat- 
tered by  an  unrelenting  Fate?  and  did  he  deserve  it? 
Self-pity  is  moving.  He  had  done  his  best,  he  was 
conscious  of  no  harm  in  thought  or  deed  to  any  of 
his  fellow  men  in  his  upward  flight.  He  had  loved 
his  country  as  boy  and  man.  And  now  was  he  to 
follow  in  the  steps  of  McDowell,  McClellan,  Pope, 
Hooker,  and  Burnside,  and  land  in  his  old  home  in 
Galena,  a military  failure?  Was  the  sky  that  hung 
so  black  and  lasted  so  long  to  cloud  over  again? 
The  tide  of  feeling  was  up:  he  leaves  the  slumber- 
ing camp-fire  for  his  tent,  and  I am  told  by  one  to 
whom  it  was  confided,  one  of  his  very  close  aides, 
that  he  threw  himself  on  the  cot-bed,  and  some- 
thing like  stifled,  subdued  sobs  were  heard. 

But  before  dawn  broke,  the  cloud  that  had  settled 
on  him  had  lifted,  and,  when  his  attached  friend. 
General  Wilson,  who  was  a member  of  his  military 
family  while  at  Vicksburg,  disturbed  over  rumors. 


328  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


rode  to  his  headquarters  at  an  early  hour,  Grant,  sit- 
ting before  the  door  of  his  tent,  said  calmly,  as  Wilson, 
having  dismounted  some  paces  away,  started  towards 
him,  with  anxious  face,  “It’s  all  right,  Wilson;  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  will  go  forward  to-night.”  And 
at  6.30  a.  m.  he  sent  the  following  order  to  Meade:  — 

General  : — Make  all  preparations  during  the  day 
for  a night  march,  to  take  position  at  Spotsylvania 
Court  House  with  one  army  corps;  at  Todd’s  Tavern 
with  one;  and  another  near  the  intersection  of  Piney 
Branch  and  Spotsylvania  Railroad  with  the  road 
from  Alsop’s  to  Old  Court  House.  If  this  move 
should  be  made,  the  trains  should  be  thrown  forward 
early  in  the  morning  to  the  Ny  River.  I think  it 
would  be  advisable  in  making  this  change  to  leave 
Hancock  where  he  is  until  Warren  passes  him.  He 
could  then  follow  and  become  the  right  of  the  new 
line.  Burnside  will  move  to  Piney  Branch  Church. 
Sedgwick  can  move  along  the  Pike  to  Chancellors- 
ville,  thence  to  Piney  Branch  Church,  and  on  to  his 
destination.  Burnside  will  move  on  the  Plank  Road, 
then  follow  Sedgwick  to  his  place  of  destination.  All 
vehicles  should  be  got  off  quietly.  It  is  more  than 
probable  the  enemy  will  concentrate  for  a heavy  at- 
tack on  Hancock  this  afternoon.  In  case  they  do,  we 
must  be  prepared  to  resist  them  and  follow  up  any 
success  we  may  gain  with  our  whole  force.  Such  a 
result  would  necessarily  modify  these  instructions. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  329 


All  the  hospitals  should  be  moved  to-day  to  Chan- 
cellorsville. 

U.  S.  Grant, 
Lieutenant-General. 

To  take  up  the  thread  of  my  return  with  the 
despatches.  Impressed  by  Airs.  Allen’s  story  and 
ominous  satisfaction,  I left  the  escort  with  directions 
to  come  on  at  its  own  marching  gait,  and  hastened  to 
Germanna  Ford,  crossed  the  river  on  the  pontoon 
bridge,  and,  having  gained  the  bluff,  gave  my  horse 
the  bit.  He  bore  me  speedily  along  the  densely  wood- 
bordered  road,  spotted  by  cast-away  blankets  and  de- 
serted now,  save  that  here  and  there  lay  prone  a sick 
or  completely  exhausted  Negro  soldier  of  Ferrero’s 
over-marched  colored  division.  They  were  not  ordi- 
nary stragglers,  and  I remember  no  more  pleading 
objects.  Most  of  them  had  lately  been  slaves,  and 
across  the  years  their  hollow  cheeks  and  plaintive 
sympathy-imploring  eyes  are  still  the  lonesome  road- 
side’s bas-reliefs. 

The  dewy  morning  air  was  steeped  with  the  odor  of 
burning  woods,  and  the  fire,  although  it  had  run  its 
mad  course,  was  still  smoking  faintly  from  stumps 
and  fallen  trees.  This  side  of  Flat  Run  it  had  come 
out  of  the  woods  and  laid  a crisp  black  mantle  on  the 
shoulders  of  an  old  field. 

Beyond  the  run  (no  one  can  cross  it  now  without 
pausing,  for,  its  large,  umbrella-topped  water-birches 


330  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


standing  in  clumps  will  capture  the  eye  with  their 
sombre  vistas),  suddenly  (and  much  to  my  surprise), 
I came  squarely  against  a freshly-spaded  line  of  en- 
trenchments with  troops  of  the  Sixth  Corps  behind 
it;  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  I was  in  the 
presence  of  General  Sedgwick  and  his  staff.  The 
rather  stubby,  kindly-faced  general  was  dismounted, 
and  with  several  of  his  aides  was  sitting  on  the  pine- 
needle-strewn  bank  of  the  road.  His  left  cheek-bone 
bore  a long,  black  smudge  which  I suspect  had  been 
rubbed  on  during  the  night  by  coming  in  contact  with 
a charred  limb  while  he  was  rallying  his  men.  From 
Beaumont  or  Kent  of  his  staff,  or  possibly  from 
“Charity”  Andrews  of  Wilson’s  class  (for  I remember 
distinctly  having  a short  talk  with  him  either  then  or 
later  on  the  way  to  Meade’s  headquarters),  I got  an 
account  of  what  had  happened. 

In  a few  minutes  I was  at  the  Pike,  — the  fog  and 
smoke  were  so  deep  one  could  barely  see  the  Lacy 
house,  — and  turned  up  to  Grant’s  headquarters  on 
the  knoll.  Meade  was  standing  beside  Seth  Williams, 
the  adjutant-general,  when  I handed  the  latter  the 
despatches,  saying  that  I had  received  his  orders  to 
return  with  them  and  that  I had  not  been  able 
to  make  telegraphic  connection  with  Washington. 
Meade  asked,  “Where  did  you  cross  the  Rapidan 
this  morning?”  I replied,  “At  Germanna  Ford,  on 
the  pontoon  bridge.”  “Is  that  bridge  still  down?” 
he  demanded  sharply.  “Yes,  at  least  it  was  when  I 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  331 


crossed  only  a little  while  ago.”  Whereupon  he  turned 
and  in  a gritty,  authoritative  tone  of  command  called 
out,  “Duane!”  Duane  was  chief  engineer  on  his 
staff  and  was  eight  or  ten  feet  away,  talking  with 
some  one.  I had  noticed  him  particularly,  for  his 
back  was  literally  plastered  with  fresh  mud,  his  horse 
having  reared  and  fallen  backward  with  him.  On  his 
approaching,  Meade,  looking  fiercer  than  an  eagle, 
wanted  to  know  why  the  bridge  was  still  down,  orders 
having  been  given  at  half -past  eleven  the  night  before 
for  its  immediate  removal  to  Ely’s  Ford.  I was 
mighty  glad  that  I was  not  in  Duane’s  shoes,  for 
Meade  did  not  spare  him. 

It  seems  that  immediately  after  Gordon’s  attack, 
Humphreys  or  Williams  sent  Charles  Francis  Adams, 
of  Boston,  then  in  command  of  a squadron  of  the 
First  Massachusetts  Cavalry,  with  orders  to  the 
officer  in  charge  of  the  bridge,  directing  him  to  take 
it  up  and  proceed  with  the  pontoons  to  Ely’s  Ford. 
For  some  reason  or  other,  for  which  Duane  was  not 
at  all  responsible,  the  orders  were  not  obeyed. 

Having  returned  the  letters  which  my  friends  had 
given  me  to  their  respective  writers,  I got  a little 
something  to  eat,  then  went  to  Edie’s  tent  and  was 
soon  fast  asleep. 

The  chronicle  of  the  third  day,  whose  early  hours  I 
had  passed  on  my  way  from  Rappahannock  Station, 
is  about  as  follows.  Some  time  during  the  night  it  was 
reported  to  Hancock  that  the  enemy  could  be  heard 


332  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


moving,  and  General  Barlow,  on  whose  picket  line 
the  report  probably  originated,  thought,  as  Gibbon 
the  day  before  had  thought,  that  the  enemy  was 
massing  to  attack  him.  Stonewall  Jackson’s  exploit 
still  hung  like  a spectre  around  the  left  of  Han- 
cock’s corps.  On  the  strength  of  Barlow’s  alarming 
chirp,  so  to  speak,  Birney  ordered  each  of  his  di- 
visions to  put  three-fourths  of  their  commands  in 
the  front  line  of  entrenchments  and  the  balance  in 
the  second  (at  this  point  just  south  of  the  Plank 
Road  it  will  be  remembered  that  there  were  three  or 
ofour  lines  of  breastworks,  the  outcome  of  Field’s  as- 
sault). Hancock’s  despatch  conveying  Barlow’s  news 
and  impression  reached  Humphreys  at  4.40,  and  by 
that  hour  daybreak  had  passed  on. 

About  the  same  time  Burnside  sent  in  a report  that 
his  pickets  too  had  heard  wagons  and  troops  of  the 
enemy  moving  busily  toward  the  south  through  the 
night,  this  in  a way  confirming  Barlow’s  report.  As  a 
matter  of  fact  the  enemy  were  not  leaving  Burnside’s 
front,  nor  were  they  massing  to  attack  Barlow. 

But  to  illustrate  the  nervous  state  of  our  corps 
commanders,  Warren,  a little  later,  at  7.40  a.  m.,  re- 
ported to  Humphreys  that  Roebling  had  heard  cheer- 
ing in  the  direction  of  Parker’s  store,  — they  probably 
had  just  been  told  of  Gordon’s  success  the  night  before, 
— that  he  had  no  doubt  the  enemy  was  passing  a 
heavy  force  along  his  front,  and  if  they  were  to  con- 
centrate upon  him,  in  the  fog  and  smoke  they  might 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  333 


break  through.  In  view  of  this  possibility  he  urged  the 
construction  of  a line  on  the  ridge  east  of  Wilderness 
Run,  and  that  Hancock  should  make  a determined 
attack  — the  suggestion  obviously  springing  from 
Burnside’s  report  of  the  enemy  leaving  his  front, 
which  must  have  been  communicated  to  Warren. 
Warren  ended  his  despatch  with,  “You  know  how 
much  more  important  our  right  is  to  our  army  just 
now  than  the  left.”  Here  we  have  another  instance 
of  Warren’s  tendency  to  put  his  finger  in  the  pie.  The 
only  way  I can  account  for  this  nervousness  is  by  the 
experiences  of  the  two  days’  fighting  and  the  presence 
of  the  looming  fog  and  smoke.  We  are  all  more  or 
less  apprehensive  if  not  cowardly  when  wrapped  in  a 
heavy  fog  and  unseen  danger  close  at  hand.  Warren, 
fearing  they  were  forming  to  come  down  the  Pike, 
had  Griffin  shell  the  woods.  Even  Meade  seemed 
to  have  been  flustered,  for  just  after  hearing  from 
Warren  he  despatched  Hancock:  “It  is  of  the  utmost 
importance  that  I should  know  as  soon  as  possible 
what  force,  if  any,  of  the  enemy  is  on  your  left.  Please 
ascertain  by  any  means  in  your  power.  . . . There 
are  indications  of  the  enemy  massing  in  front  of 
Warren;  either  you  or  he  is  to  be  attacked  and  I think 
he,  from  their  abandoning  the  Plank  Road.”  Here 
we  have  the  re-reflection  of  Burnside’s  report. 

In  accordance  with  Warren’s  suggestions  Comstock 
and  artillery  officers  were  sent  to  select  a line  on  the 
elevated  ground  east  of  the  run;  and  Warren,  to 


334  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


make  sure  of  getting  back  to  it  if  compelled  to  do  so, 
set  some  of  the  engineer  battalions  and  detachments 
of  the  Fifteenth  New  York  Engineer  Regiment  to 
making  bridges  across  the  run.  But  from  all  we  can 
learn,  his  anxiety  was  wholly  unfounded,  for  there  is  no 
evidence  that  Lee  at  any  time  during  the  day  enter- 
tained a thought  of  attacking.  The  fact  is,  he  had 
shot  his  bolt,  and  so  had  Grant.  Nor  is  it  at  all  likely 
that  Lee  seriously  considered  making  a strategic 
move;  his  disparity  of  numbers  was  too  great  for 
risking  wide  manoeuvring.  Moreover,  he  knew  that 
in  the  nature  of  things  Grant  would  have  to  choose 
within  the  next  twenty-four  hours  between  renewed 
assault,  retreat,  or  advance,  and  hoping  he  might 
choose  retreat,  he  left  the  door  to  the  Rapidan  wide 
open  behind  him.  But,  as  illustrative  of  how  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  credited  Lee’s  fighting  spirit, 
Wilson,  before  the  sun  was  very  high,  was  directed  by 
Sheridan  to  send  a brigade  toward  Sedgwick’s  right 
and  find  out  if  the  enemy  had  made  any  movement 
in  that  direction.  Meade  became  restless  on  not  get- 
ting word  promptly  from  the  cavalry,  and  at  8.45  A.  M. 
said  in  a despatch  to  Sedgwick,  “I  cannot  understand 
the  non-receipt  of  intelligence  from  your  cavalry. 
Single  horsemen  are  constantly  arriving  from  the  ford 
signifying  the  Plank  Road  is  open.”  — I was  doubt- 
less one  of  the  single  horsemen  referred  to.  — How 
inconsistent  is  all  this  nervousness  with  the  claim 
that  we  won  a victory  in  the  Wilderness. 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  335 


By  ten  o’clock,  the  fog  and  smoke  having  lifted, 
and  Warren  being  able  to  see  everything,  he  tells 
Crawford  that  he  thinks  Lee  is  retreating!  Lee 
retreating!  Did  he  not  wait  defiantly  a day  after 
Antietam  and  a like  time  after  Gettysburg,  inviting 
assault?  No,  he  was  not  given  to  abandoning  fields, 
and  the  men  knew  it;  so,  the  army,  crouching,  con- 
fronted its  dangerous  adversary  with  vigilance  unre- 
laxed, prepared  to  meet  a lunge  as  a tiger  which  had 
felt  another’s  teeth  and  claws. 

Hancock,  in  receipt  of  Meade’s  anxious  despatch, 
sent  Miles  along  the  unfinished  railway,  and  Birney 
up  the  Plank  Road.  Miles  executed  his  orders  with 
his  usual  vigor,  and  located  Lee’s  right  about  five 
hundred  yards  south  of  the  railway.  Birney  found 
Field  behind  strong  entrenchments  this  side  of  the 
Widow  Tapp’s  field,  practically  on  the  spot  where  he 
went  into  bivouac  after  his  unsuccessful  assault  the 
evening  before.  Both  Miles  and  Birney,  in  pushing 
their  lines  hard  up  against  the  enemy,  met  with  con- 
siderable losses. 

Sheridan  had,  on  his  own  initiative,  pushed  Custer 
back  along  the  Furnace  Road  to  the  Brock;  and,  at 
noon,  having  gained  the  import  of  Grant’s  order  to 
Meade  for  his  night  move,  sent  Gregg  and  Merritt  to 
drive  the  enemy  from  Piney  Branch  Church  and 
Todd’s  Tavern,  so  as  to  clear  the  way  for  Warren  and 
the  trains.  This  was  not  accomplished  till  after  sun- 
down, and  only  by  the  hardest  and  most  resolute  kind 


336  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


of  fighting.  Sheridan  won  the  hotly  contested  field, 
Stuart  leaving,  among  his  dead,  Collins,  Colonel  of 
the  Fifteenth  Virginia  Cavalry.  But  Stuart  still  held 
the  road  to  Spotsylvania,  and  never  did  his  cavalry 
or  any  other  do  better  fighting  than  was  done  the 
next  morning  resisting  Merritt  and  Warren. 

Out  of  a tender  memory  of  Collins’s  fate,  — he  had 
been  our  tall,  light-haired,  modest,  pink-cheeked 
adjutant  at  West  Point,  — while  my  horses  were 
crunching  their  dinner  of  corn  on  the  ear,  I walked 
over  the  ground  last  May  where  he  fell.  It  had  lately 
been  raggedly  ploughed;  and  catching  sight  of  a 
couple  of  daisies  in  bloom,  I went  to  them.  And  now 
if  those  to  whom  sentiment  in  prose  is  unpleasing  — 
and  there  are  many  such  in  the  world,  and  too,  too 
often  have  I offended  them  already  — will  excuse  me, 
I ’ll  say  that  as  I stood  over  the  daisies,  a gentle  wind 
came  along,  they  waved  softly,  and  with  a heart  full 
of  auld  lang  syne,  I said,  “For  the  sake  of  my  West 
Point  fellow-cadet,  and  for  the  sake  of  days  to  come, 
and  for  the  Southern  sweetheart  he  married,  wave 
and  bloom  on,  Daisies!” 

Could  Sheridan  have  made  his  attack  with  all  of  his 
cavalry  (Wilson  had  gone  with  a part  of  his  division 
to  look  after  Sedgwick’s  right),  it  might  have  put 
links  of  an  entirely  different  character  in  the  chain  of 
events. 

Wilson  went  far  enough  with  McIntosh’s  brigade 
to  satisfy  himself  that  the  Germanna  Ford  Road  was 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  337 


clear,  and  then,  to  be  doubly  sure,  sent  McIntosh  to 
the  ford  itself. 

At  a quarter  to  one  McIntosh  in  a despatch  to 
Sedgwick  from  Germanna  Ford  reported:  “The  road 
is  all  open.  One  battalion  of  the  Fifth  New  York 
Cavalry  crossed  the  ford  this  morning  at  7 A.  m.  They 
came  from  Rappahannock  Station  and  left  that  sta- 
tion at  2.30  this  morning.”  This,  of  course,  was  my 
escort. 

And  now,  a strange  thing  happened.  Just  after 
McIntosh’s  despatch,  announcing  a clear  road,  was 
received,  one  came  to  hand  from  Colonel  S.  T. 
Crooks,  of  the  Twenty-second  New  York,  picketing 
between  Flat  Run  and  the  ford,  saying  that  the 
enemy’s  pickets  were  on  the  road,  and  that  a short 
distance  down  the  Rapidan  large  columns  of  dust 
could  be  seen,  McIntosh  meanwhile  having  moved 
to  Ely’s  Ford.  Thereupon  Meade  grew  furious,  and 
sent  this  message  to  poor  Crooks:  “You  will  consider 
yourself  under  arrest  for  having  sent  false  informa- 
tion in  relation  to  the  enemy.  You  will  turn  your 
command  over  to  the  next  in  rank,  directing  that 
officer  to  report  to  Colonel  Hammond  commanding 
Fifth  New  York  Cavalry  for  orders.” 

What  were  the  facts?  General  A.  L.  Long,  chief  of 
artillery  of  Ewell’s  corps  and  late  biographer  of  Lee, 
says:  “I  was  directed  by  General  Ewell  to  make  a 
reconnaissance  in  the  direction  of  Germanna  Ford. 
Taking  one  brigade  of  infantry  and  two  battalions  of 


338  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


artillery,  I advanced  to  the  Germanna  Road,  striking 
it  about  a mile  from  the  ford.  Two  or  three  regiments 
of  cavalry  were  occupying  the  road  at  this  point. 
They  were  soon  driven  away  by  a couple  of  well- 
directed  shots.  It  was  discovered  that  the  enemy  had 
almost  entirely  abandoned  the  ford  and  road.  It  was 
evident  that  they  were  leaving  our  front.”  I do  not 
know  what  ever  became  of  Colonel  Crooks,  but  I 
hope  he  was  righted  at  last. 

I do  not  recall  seeing  Grant  during  the  day,  but  he 
is  reported  by  one  who  was  near  him  to  have  been 
deeply  absorbed,  and  to  have  visited  the  line  between 
Burnside  and  Warren,  his  eyes  resting  on  the  Chewn- 
ing  farm  on  the  Parker's  Store  Road.  As  to  his  an- 
tagonist, Gordon  says  Lee  invited  him  early  in  the 
forenoon  to  ride  with  him  over  the  ground  of  his 
movement  of  the  night  before.  While  on  the  ride,  Lee 
expressed  his  conviction  that  if  he  could  check  Grant, 
such  a crisis  in  public  affairs  in  the  North  would  arise 
as  might  lead  to  an  armistice;  and  I am  almost  sure 
he  was  right.  Gordon  says  he  referred  to  the  rumors 
that  Grant  was  retreating,  and  that  Lee  gave  them 
no  credit,  predicting,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  would 
move  toward  Spotsylvania. 

Meanwhile  the  rear  of  both  armies  contrasted 
sharply  with  their  fronts.  Scattered  over  the  dulled, 
impoverished  fields,  amid  flooding  sunshine,  — for 
after  the  smoke  and  fog  had  broken  up  and  gone,  it 
was  a beautiful,  serenely  smiling  day,  — lay  the  ar- 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  339 


tillery  and  the  multitudinous  trains,  their  animals 
harnessed  and  hitched,  dozing  where  they  stood. 
Men  and  drivers  lounged  in  groups  near  their  guns 
and  teams,  some  sound  asleep,  some  playing  cards, 
here  and  there  one  writing  home,  and  here  and  there, 
too,  a bohemian  dog  that  had  been  picked  up  and 
adopted,  curled  down,  nose  on  paws  and  eyes  half- 
closed,  but  out  for  what  was  going  on.  Yes,  a battle- 
field has  a wide  compass,  very  human  and  interesting. 

About  noon  orders  were  issued  for  the  wounded  to 
be  loaded  in  trains,  and,  under  an  escort  of  thirteen 
hundred  cavalry,  taken  across  the  Rapidan  at  Ely’s 
Ford  and  on  to  Rappahannock  Station,  there  to  meet 
cars  that  were  to  be  sent  out  from  Alexandria.  The 
wounded  were  divided  into  three  classes,  those  who 
could  walk,  those  able  to  ride  in  the  wagons,  and, 
third,  the  most  severely  wounded,  including  those 
suffering  from  fractures,  or  from  some  recent  ampu- 
tation, and,  most  unfortunate  of  all,  those  whose 
wounds  had  penetrated  the  breast  or  abdominal 
cavities.  The  wagons,  having  assembled  at  the  vari- 
ous hospitals  (there  were  325  of  them  and  488  ambu- 
lances), were  thickly  bedded  with  evergreen  boughs 
on  which  shelter  tents  and  blankets  were  spread. 
Dalton  was  put  in  charge  of  the  train,  Winne  and 
other  corps  inspectors  aiding  at  the  respective  hos- 
pitals in  getting  the  necessary  supplies  together,  and 
selecting  and  loading  the  wounded.  It  was  approach- 
ing midnight  before  the  train,  with  its  seven  thousand 


340  lthe  battle  of  the  wilderness 


souls,  either  on  foot  or  being  carried,  was  ready  to 
move;  nearly  a thousand  had  to  be  left  on  account  of 
lack  of  transportation.  No  one  can  appreciate,  unless 
he  has  been  witness  of  such  scenes,  the  strain  upon 
the  surgeons  that  night.  I have  often  thought  that 
they  never  received  a full  measure  of  recognition  for 
their  humane  services. 

Let  us  not  follow  the  train  in  the  darkness,  for 
almost  every  wagon  is  a hive  of  moans,  and  we  should 
hear  horrible  cries  of  agony  breaking  from  the  men  as 
the  wheels  grind  on  boulders  or  jounce  across  roots, 
the  piercing  shrieks  mingling  with  the  shouts  of 
drivers  and  clanking  of  trace-chains.  Before  Dalton 
got  to  the  ford,  orders  came  to  countermarch  and 
proceed  to  Fredericksburg  with  the  poor  fellows. 
Whenever  an  unrighteous  war  shall  be  urged  upon  our 
country  by  the  unscrupulously  ambitious  or  thought- 
less, I wish  that  the  Wilderness,  Spotsylvania,  and 
Cold  Harbor  would  lay  bare  all  that  they  remember. 

In  this  connection  here  is  what  Keifer  says:  “On 
my  arrival  at  hospital  about  2 p.  m.  I was  carried 
through  an  entrance  to  a large  tent,  on  each  side  of 
which  lay  human  legs  and  arms,  resembling  piles  of 
stove  wood,  the  blood  only  excepted.  All  around  were 
dead  and  wounded  men,  many  of  the  latter  dying. 
The  surgeons,  with  gleaming,  sometimes  bloody, 
knives  and  instruments,  were  busy  at  their  work.  I 
soon  was  laid  on  the  rough-board  operating-table  and 
chloroformed.” 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  341 


Notwithstanding  this  frightful  record,  I think  I can 
hear  the  Wilderness  exclaim  with  holy  exultation, 
“ Deep  as  the  horrors  were,  the  battles  that  were 
fought  in  my  gloom  were  made  glorious  by  the  prin- 
ciples at  stake  : and  I cherish  every  drop  of  the  gallant 
blood  that  was  shed.” 

Lee,  after  his  ride  with  Gordon,  went  back  to  his 
headquarters  and  directed  Stuart  and  Pendleton  to 
thoroughly  acquaint  themselves  with  the  roads  on 
the  right,  which  the  army  would  have  to  follow 
should  Grant  undertake  to  move,  as  he  thought  he 
might,  toward  Spotsylvania ; the  latter,  to  cut  a 
path  through  the  woods  to  facilitate  the  infantry’s 
march  in  reaching  the  Catharpin  Road.  The  filing 
of  our  ammunition  and  headquarters  trains  past  the 
Wilderness  Tavern  in  the  forenoon,  preliminary  to 
clearing  the  way  for  Warren  and  the  general  move- 
ment, and  visible  from  Lee’s  lines,  make  the  sources 
of  these  precautions  plain.  Lee  established  his 
headquarters  for  the  night  at  Parker’s  store,  and 
between  sundown  and  dark  directed  Anderson,  whom 
he  had  assigned  to  Longstreet’s  command,  to  go 
to  Spotsylvania  either  by  Todd’s  Tavern  or  Shady 
Grove  Church,  and  Ewell  to  conform  his  movements 
to  those  of  the  troops  on  his  right;  and  if  at  daylight 
he  found  no  large  force  in  his  front,  to  follow  Ander- 
son toward  Spotsylvania.  It  is  obvious  from  these 
orders  that  Lee  was  not  fully  informed  of  the  situa- 
tion, for  at  that  very  hour  Sheridan  was  in  full  pos- 


342  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


session  of  Todd’s  Tavern,  and  “ Charley  ” McCon- 
nell of  Pittsburg  was  probably  burying  Collins,  the 
friend  of  his  youth.  It  may  interest  some  readers 
to  know  that  he  cut  off  a lock  of  Collins’s  hair  before 
he  laid  him  in  his  narrow  bed,  and  that  that  lock  at 
last  reached  loving  hands  and  is  preserved. 

General  Pendleton  went  to  see  Anderson,  de- 
scribed the  route  he  was  to  take,  and  left  one  of  his 
aides  as  a guide,  Lee  having  directed  Anderson  (his 
despatch  is  dated  seven  p.  m.)  to  start  as  soon  as  he 
could  withdraw  safely.  Anderson,  rather  a slow  but 
valiant  man,  had  fixed  on  starting  at  three,  but  was 
under  way  by  eleven,  and  those  four  hours  gained 
were  mighty  valuable  to  Lee. 

Meade’s  orders  for  the  movements  of  the  night 
were  issued  at  three  p.  m.,  and,  like  all  those  written 
by  Humphreys,  are  models  of  explicitness.  Sedgwick 
was  to  move  at  8.30,  by  way  of  the  Pike  and  Chan- 
cellorsville  and  thence  to  Piney  Branch  Church; 
Warren  was  to  set  off  for  Spotsylvania  by  way  of 
the  Brock  Road.  Their  pickets  were  to  be  withdrawn 
at  one  a.  m.  Burnside  was  to  follow  Sedgwick,  and 
Hancock  was  to  stand  fast.  The  sun  was  just  above 
the  tree-tops  when  Warren  with  his  staff  left  the 
Lacy  house.  For  some  reason  that  I do  not  know, 
instead  of  following  the  Germanna  Road  to  the 
Brock,  he  took  the  Pike,  and  just  as  we  gained  the 
brow  of  the  hill  at  the  old  Wilderness  Tavern  there 
was  borne  from  the  enemy’s  lines  on  the  still  evening 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  343 


air  the  sound  of  distant  cheering.  I halted  and 
turned  my  horse’s  head  in  the  direction  whence  it 
came,  that  is,  up  the  run,  whose  trough-like  valley, 
with  its  timbered  head,  lay  resting  against  the  up- 
heaved  openings  of  the  Widow  Tapp  and  Chewning 
farms.  The  sun  was  now  lodged  halfway  in  the  tree- 
tops,  and  looked  like  a great,  red  copper  ball.  I think 
I can  hear  that  Confederate  line  cheering  yet.  At  the 
time  I supposed  that,  seeing  us  on  the  move,  they 
thought  we  had  had  enough  of  it,  and  were  seeking 
safety  at  Fredericksburg.  It  seems,  however,  to  have 
been  unpremeditated  and  to  have  been  started  by 
some  North  Carolina  regiment  in  the  right  of  their 
line  cheering  Lee,  who  happened  to  go  by  them.  As- 
suming that  it  was  a cry  of  defiance,  the  adjacent 
brigade  took  it  up,  and,  like  a wave  on  the  beach,  it 
broke  continuously  along  their  entire  line.  And  after 
dying  away,  from  their  right  beyond  the  unfinished 
railway  to  their  extreme  left  resting  on  Flat  Run,  it 
was  followed  by  two  more  like  surges. 

Cheers  never  broke  on  a stiller  evening.  There  is 
not  a breath  of  air,  the  flushing  west  is  fading  fast,  the 
world  is  on  the  verge  of  twilight,  and  trees,  roads, 
fields,  and  distances  are  dimming  as  they  clothe 
themselves  in  its  pensive  mystery.  Where  now  are 
the  scenes  and  the  sounds  of  only  three  evenings  ago? 
Where  are  all  the  men  who  were  singing  in  their 
bivouacs  along  Wilderness  Run?  Where  are  Wads- 
worth, Hays,  Jenkins,  Jones,  Stafford,  McElwain, 


844  THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


Campbell  Brown,  Griswold,  and  “Little”  Abbott? 
And  where  are  the  hopes  and  plans  of  Grant  and  Lee 
when  the  sun  went  down  on  the  first  night  in  the 
Wilderness.  Well!  well!  and  all  will  be  well! 

The  Pike  to  Chancellorsville  is  packed  with  mov- 
ing trains.  The  resolute  batteries  that  stood  on  the 
slope,  where  the  little  chapel  stands  now,  have  pulled 
out,  crossed  the  run,  and  their  heavy  wheels  are  roll- 
ing over  and  muttering  their  rumbling  jars;  they  will 
hear  no  bugle-calls  for  taps  to-night,  nor  will  three 
thousand  dead.  The  sunset  flush  has  ebbed  from  the 
west,  the  lone,  still  trees  are  growing  black,  and  the 
overhead  dome  vaulting  the  old  fields  of  the  Lacy 
plantation  is  filling  with  a wan  hushed  light. 

Wilderness  Run  now  utters  its  first  audible  gurgle, 
night  is  falling  fast  on  the  earth,  and  weary  day  is 
closing  her  eyes.  Grant’s  and  Meade’s  headquarters 
tents  are  struck,  the  orderlies  are  standing  by  the 
saddled  horses,  the  men  are  waiting  behind  the 
breastworks  in  the  already  dark  woods  for  the  word 
silently  to  withdraw.  A few  minutes  more  and  the 
Lacy  farm  will  be  hidden.  Now  it  is  gone;  and  here 
comes  the  head  of  Warren’s  corps  with  banners  afloat. 
What  calm  serenity,  what  unquenchable  spirit,  are 
in  the  battle-flags!  On  they  go.  Good-by,  old  fields, 
deep  woods,  and  lonesome  roads.  And  murmuring 
runs,  Wilderness,  and  Caton’s,  you  too  farewell. 

The  head  of  Warren’s  column  has  reached  the 
Brock  Road,  and  is  turning  south.  At  once  the  men 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  WILDERNESS  345 


catch  what  it  means.  Oh,  the  Old  Army  of  the  Poto- 
mac is  not  retreating  ! and  in  the  dusky  light,  as  Grant 
and  Meade  pass  by,  they  give  them  high,  ringing 
cheers. 

And  now  we  are  passing  Hancock’s  lines,  and  never, 
never  shall  I forget  the  scene.  Dimly  visible  but 
almost  within  reach  from  our  horses,  the  gallant  men 
of  the  Second  Corps  are  resting  against  the  charred 
parapets,  from  which  they  hurled  Field.  Here  and 
there  is  a weird  little  fire,  groups  of  mounted  officers 
stand  undistinguishable  in  the  darkness,  and  up  in 
the  towering  tree-tops  of  the  thick  woods  beyond 
the  entrenchments  tongues  of  yellow  flames  are  puls- 
ing from  dead  limbs  lapping  the  black  face  of  night. 
All,  all  is  deathly  still.  We  pass  on,  cross  the  un- 
finished railway,  then  Poplar  Run,  and  then  up  a 
shouldered  hill.  Our  horses  are  walking  slowly.  We 
are  in  dismal  pine  woods,  the  habitation  of  thousands 
of  whippoorwills  uttering  their  desolate  notes  un- 
ceasingly. Now  and  then  a sabre  clanks,  and  close 
behind  us  the  men  are  toiling  on. 

It  is  midnight.  Todd’s  Tavern  is  two  or  three 
miles  away.  Deep,  deep  is  the  silence.  Jehovah 
reigns;  Spotsylvania  and  Cold  Harbor  are  waiting 
for  us;  and  here  we  end. 


(3Tftc  Iftilierpibc  JDres^ 

CAMBRIDGE  . MASSACHUSETTS 
U . S . A 


Duke  University  Libraries 

D02465992. 

oc ' 


973. V 3 53 


230369 


